


State of Seduction - Weasley Family One Shots

by Katpierce03



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, One Shot, Weasley Family-centric (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katpierce03/pseuds/Katpierce03
Summary: Wanna fuck or fall in love with all the Weasleys? Look no further.
Relationships: Bill Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Bill Weasley/Reader, Charlie Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Charlie Weasley/Reader, Draco Malfoy/Charlie Weasley, Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/Reader, George Weasley/Reader, Ginny Weasley/Reader, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood/George Weasley, Ron Weasley/Reader
Comments: 29
Kudos: 132





	1. Introduction

_**Welcome to State of Seduction, a collection of one shots involving our favorite ginger family! Each story will come with a small blurb at the beginning of the chapter. We'll cover a range of smut and fluff with Ginny, Ron, Fred and George, Charlie, and Bill. Might fuck around and write some Percy scenes if there's an interest.** _

_**Annnddd, I might include some of our favorite characters like Harry, Hermione, Draco.** _

_**We'll see. ;)** _

_**ALL stories will make the characters over the age of 18 for content sake.** _


	2. The Chosen One's Girlfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place a few weeks after Dumbledore's funeral when Harry breaks up with Ginny to leave for horcrux hunting. The MC is you. You're one year older than Ginny and have been friends with her since she came to Hogwarts. You've been almost inseparable since you first met.

"Tell it again," you asked.

You're best friend Ginny Weasley sat across from you at the crooked, oak table sat in the dining area of her home. She tapped her fingernails against her ceramic mug, a habit she had when she was nervous.

"Why?" she asked.

"I just want to understand."

Ginny huffed in a conceding manner. "After the funeral, he held my hand and apologized. Said he had to break up with me because he needed to leave for some important business."

"To which you said?"

"It's for some stupid, noble, reason, right?"

"And he said yes," you added. "Probably something to do with Voldemort then, yeah?"

"That's what I think."

"And then he...lectured you for 20 minutes about how weird it was you didn't cry?"

"I-Why is that so weird?"

"I dunno, Gin." Ginny's mouth quirked slightly when you called her that. It always did. "You've been pining over Harry since you were like...17? Four years later, you have your dream man, and you just let him go without a fight?"

"What could I do?" she asked anxiously. This wasn't like her. She was normally very resolved and put together, but you could see her crumbling inside.

"Harry doesn't always need you to be strong for him. He wants someone to be real with him."

"I-I was," she stammered.

"Gin," you said softly. "There's something more you're not telling me. Maybe you're not ready to, and that's okay. There's a lot going on. But you know I'll never judge you, right?"

Ginny averted your gaze and stared into her tea, which was now probably considerably cold based on how long the two of you had been sitting there. She hugged her olive green cardigan closer to her chest and folded her arms. She looked like she was about to open her mouth when George Weasley came ambling down the stairs.

"Morning," he said playfully while scooting by into the kitchen. He drew his gaze between the two of you and smirked to himself. "Ginny, darling, Fred's upstairs sulking about some girl problem. Can you try and talk to him?"

She mumbled some agreement and quickly pushed her chair out and darted up the steps.

George immediately took her seat and wasted no time. "You know, you and Ginny have been friends for a really long time..."

"Yes...?" 

"I'm not blind, mate," he chuckled.

"What-what are you talking about?" you asked nervously.

"I see the way you look at her. You think she doesn't look at you the same way, but she does. She's just more subtle about it."

"George...What are you saying?" you breathed.

It felt like all time had stopped. It felt like you'd waste away into dust before he would finally answer you. Your nerves were on edge, and the smallest of a breeze would knock you over.

"All I'm saying is, there's a reason she wasn't too banged up about Harry leaving..." George smiled at you softly before standing up and leaving you with that. Perfect timing too, as Ginny came bounding down the stairs. Her hair stark fire hair flurried around her like it always did, making you realize one thing. Something that you knew George was hinting at.

You loved her.

You always had.

"George," she scowled. "Fred didn't need anything from me. If you wanted to corner my friend and hit on her, you could have just asked."

"To which you would have said no," winked George. He stalked off back upstairs before Ginny could retort. 

She eyed you sorrowfully. "Sorry about him," she laughed. "Hey, wanna go up to my room? It's a bit warmer up there." 

You gave your response by standing and heading towards where she was standing. When you both got to her room, you took a moment to rove over her room again, always enchanted by it. Posters of the Holyhead Harpies quidditch team, a disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, bare wooden floors, a muggle calendar of puppies and kittens, and of course, and entire shelving unite on one wall with various quidditch trophies, medals, and her goggles strewn around.

She plopped onto her bed sideways and laid with her back on the mattress. You hurtled yourself down face first. Your hips were slightly touching hers. The delicate skin of her stomach poked out from where her shirt had ridden up. You tried not to let your gaze linger, but it was hard not to look away from the small tone of abs she had through all the years of quidditch.

Your eyes traveled back up towards her exposed collarbone that rose and fell with each breath she took. You could almost see her pulse aching through her neck. 

And then there was her face.

Merlin, her face.

It was slightly tanned from spending so much time in Molly's garden and from playing quidditch with all her brothers nearly every day. The heavy load of freckles that lined her cheeks and her nose were darker also. Her eyes curved downward a bit and held the most beautiful shade of hazel irises. 

"Gin," you whispered, unable to take it any longer. George's words kept echoing through your ribcage.

"Yeah?" she whispered back. She turned her head towards you. You were propped up on your elbows and looking down at her. Just a small distance. Just a small distance, and you could kiss her. Her plump lips parted slightly as she waited in anticipation to hear what you had to say.

"Why aren't you sad about Harry?" you asked. Your voice wobbled at the fear of the answer.

"Because I'm in love with someone else," she muttered gently. She never took her eyes off of you. Her expression turned anguished as she waited for you to answer.

The room stilled and quieted except for the sounds of your breathing falling in line with hers. You couldn't help but lick your lips as you looked at hers. Her mouth started to part more as if she wanted to say something, but all that came out was a small croak.

"Sh," you breathed. Your chest started to heave a little faster as you tried to calculate the consequences of your actions. 

Fuck it all.

"I think that person is in love with you too," you whispered. You ducked down and pressed a gentle kiss onto her lips and pulled away shortly after. You blinked slowly, reveling in the softness of her lips and how you could taste the remnants of sugar from her tea on them.

"You think, or know?" she giggled lightly.

"I know." You dove in for another kiss, but this time, you held nothing back. You pressed into her like she might melt away from this moment. All these years, all you wanted was Ginevra Molly Weasley. In all her fiery fashion. In all her arrogant but loving glory. You wanted her to sass you to the ends of the earth and back for all time.

So you kissed her.

Kissed her like you would never kiss anyone again, because you never wanted to.

How could anyone have ever let her go?

Ginny brought a shaky hand to your face, and when she touched you, it calmed. She breathed out relief, and she languished in the tenderness of the moment just the same as you. 

You swung your leg over her waist and climbed on top of her, never breaking the kiss. Your lips renewed their passport and cherished each layover at her jaw line, her throat, her sharp collarbone.

Ginny's breathing quickened with every touch. Her hands tangled in the back of your hair, trying to pull you deeper into her skin. She sat up to shrug of her cardigan and then eagerly her shirt. Her breasts sat tucked perfectly in her dark green bra. Your hands snaked around her back and up her spine until you reached the clasp, undoing it in one go.

Ginny chucked her bra across the room, hitting the opposite wall. She smiled into your mouth with each fervent kiss, growing more and more comfortable with the ensuing situation.

You nudged her back down on the bed and roamed around her chest, desperate to take her stiffened nipples into your mouth and hear her moan. The closer you got to it, the more rapid her breathing became.

"Wait," she breathed.

You instantly stopped and looked down at her. "What is it?"

"I've never...with a, um," she laughed softly.

"It's okay," you quelled. "We can stop, or you can just let me take care of you."

Your hair was starting to fall in front of your face, and Ginny used both hands to push it back. She couldn't stop smiling at you. "No. I want to keep going."

You went in for another searing kiss. One full of promises to her of your infinite care, adoration, longing, protection. You trailed back down her body once more and took one of her aching nipples into your mouth. Slowly twirling your tongue around and sucking, feeling her slender body grind upwards into you at the pleasure.

You moved down the small ridges of her abs with your mouth, placing a delicate kiss at the skin just riding above the waistline of her jeans. You shifted your body until you were completely between her legs, stealing a glance at her while you undid her pants. 

Ginny's head sunk back into the mattress, and she draped her arm across her forehead. She took a deep breath in and released it raggedly. 

"Is this still okay?" you asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

You tugged off her jeans and let them fall to the floor. As soon as you followed with her matching dark green panties, she opened her legs wide. She flung another arm across her face like she was embarrassed, and you removed both of them to make her look at you.

"Hey," you cooed. "You are so beautiful. Please don't hide from me."

She nodded shyly and couldn't resist against the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. You kissed her reassuringly and moved back to her slick, pulsing desire. You carefully pressed your lips onto her clit, opened your mouth wider and started to suck.

Ginny's hips bucked into your mouth more, and you watched her bite down on her knuckles to suppress whatever wanton noises that threatened to leave her. Your tongue moved around scrupulously, ensuring she felt every single sensation to it's fullest.

Her muffled whines coaxed you further, and you slid one finger, then two, inside of her. She was so wet that you glided in easily. She let out a hefty sigh as you did, and she brought her legs back to rest on your shoulders. 

You let your fingers roll over the ridged top of her cunt, over and over until the culmination of that and your tongue drove her wild.

She started to grind her hips across your face, and you devoured her even more greedily. Wanting nothing more than for her to cum all over your fingers.

You couldn't stop thinking about how sweet she tasted.

How long you waited for this moment to dive into her. Body, heart, and soul. Her unrelenting squirming beneath you all but reduced you to nothing.

"Fu-" she breathed. "I'm-I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me, baby." You maintained your pace, not changing a thing.

"Uhhhh, fuck!" she cried while turning and burying her face into her sheets.

Her face flushed as her muscles relaxed and she started to come down from her release. She did her best to steady her breathing as quietly as she could. You performed a quick _Scourgify_ to clean both of you up.

Ginny sat up and pulled you back down for a fierce kiss. You dissolved into her touch as she held onto your face with a kindness you'd not known in your lifetime.

"So," you started slyly. "You're in love with me?" You did your best not to smirk too much, but it was irresistible. 

She was irresistible.

"Yes," she stated firmly. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize. I just-I always thought I wanted Harry. Maybe I just loved the idea of him. This unattainable friend of my older brother. He never gave me a second look, and it just made me want him all the more."

"When did you know?"

She paused for a moment in reflection. She raked her fingers through her hair, but it instantly fell back into place. "Third year. I had a really awful day, and Pansy wouldn't stop berating me. Normally, I'd stand up to her, but I just didn't have the energy. She humiliated me in front of so many people. Later on, you just kept giving me all the affirmations I knew but forgot. I had felt weak, vulnerable, unintelligent."

"It's okay to feel those things sometimes," you said.

"Yes, it is. But you reminded me of who I was _and_ that I could also be those things. I don't know," she whispered. "I guess...Something about the way you spoke to me that day felt so special. I felt really seen. You weren't just looking at me. You were looking in me. Agh, that probably all sounds so stupid." Ginny buried her face in her hands, and once again, you removed them.

"What did I say about hiding from me?"

"I'm not like this," she huffed. "What is it about you that throws me completely?"

"I'd say it's you being in love with me," you grinned.

She shoved you off to the side and onto the bed, straddling you while doing so. She bit down on her bottom lip to suppress a smile, but she couldn't restrain it. "You just like hearing those words, don't you?"

"How could I not? _The_ Ginny Weasley? In love with me? There's no greater honor."

She held your gaze for a while and swallowed hard. "I do. I do love you," she whispered coarsely as if fighting back tears.

"You have a but to add," you guessed.

"Not a bad one..."

"I can take it."

"Harry and I were together for a whole year. Yes, I love you, but I also love him. Those feelings don't disappear overnight." Her shoulders slumped as she moved from on top of you. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them, unable to look at you.

"I get it," you said tersely. "He's the chosen one."

"Oh, please. I don't give a damn about that."

"Just tell me what you need. I can't lose you, so I'll be whatever you want me to be," you said strongly. The façade you put on to prevent your voice from shaking was a surprise to you.

"I just want to take things slow," she suggested.

"I can do slow," you grinned impishly. "But my best work is a little faster," you winked.

"Sod off!" she shouted as she grabbed one of her pillows and bashed you on the head with it.

You tackled her down into the bed and pelted her with kisses until she was a giggling wreck. She threw her arms around your neck and held you closer.

"I love you. Thank you for being my very best friend," she whispered between kisses.

"I love you," you crooned.

You fell onto the bed beside her and pulled her onto your chest, and she tangled her legs between yours.

Maybe it wasn't perfect, but you were happy. 


	3. Devil's Tango

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second Battle of Hogwarts is nigh, and two people find themselves on the run from The Dark Lord. Mara Malfoy and Fred Weasley. When Mara saves Fred's life, Fred recognizes her from her Death Eater background and the one heinous act she committed that will haunt her for the rest of her life. Can she convince him that there's more to her than it seems, and will Fred see that they're more similar than he knows?
> 
> TW: Very, very light, vague mentions of suicidal thoughts.

"C'mon! Kill him! Or will you take his ear too?" hissed Rookwood.

Mara's eyes flashed to the tall ginger man standing next to her who just took out Dolohov. She couldn't let this happen. " _Stupefy!_ " she yelled, sending Rookwood flying back and laying motionless for the time being. "Come on! We have to run."

She grabbed Fred's hand and tried to pull on it, but he wouldn't budge at first. He stared at her with a mixture of bewilderment and perhaps recognition. Then he looked back at the expansive green field with two seemingly lifeless Death Eaters. He knew she was right, but he couldn't move.

"It won't be long before they send someone after them. We have to go. Or you can stay here and die. There's an inn not far from here. A safehouse. We can get rooms and be safe for the night," she explained.

Fred reluctantly followed her, desperate for some answers, but he knew she was right. She did just save his life. Maybe there was something more here.

Or maybe, she was just a cunning Slytherin, buying herself time to make her own move.

They arrived at a dinky little cottage like inn with a rusted sign above the front door saying, "Roberta's." The wood looked almost rotted in some places, but other than that, it wasn't half bad. Fred thought to himself that it might be a ruse considering the inside was immaculate and beautiful. 

A cozy fireplace greeted them from the left, and a low sitting desk right across from them with a homely old woman dressed in all white.

Mara marched up to the desk immediately and asked for a double room.

"Hold on," interrupted Fred. "I think it's better if we have separate rooms."

"Sorry," croaked the old receptionist. "There's actually only one room left. It's quite spacious though. Should do nicely." She smiled warmly, but there was a glint of mischievousness in her eyes. Fred recognized it immediately because he always saw it in George's eyes when they hatched some plan.

Mara rolled her eyes and huffed about how it was fine and that Fred needed to not be a baby. They were both adults.

The old woman gave Mara the key, and she shouldered past Fred to go down the hall to their room.

When Mara unlocked the door and pushed into the room, the two of them were met with something opposite of spacious. Instead of the double bed Mara requested, there was one singular bed. It was small. Twin size, in fact. Hardly enough for two people to share if they liked one another, let alone two near strangers on edge. The room was hardly a bit bigger than a walk in closet, minus the bathroom in the back corner.

Fred leaned on the door and sighed. He discreetly locked the door and pulled his wand from his pocket.

"I'll take the floor," offered Mara.

When Fred didn't respond, she touched his arm to grab his attention.

He yanked his arm aggressively from her grip. "I know who you are now. I thought I was crazy," he whispered. "Thought maybe there was too much going on that night to be sure it was you, but it was. You're the one who cursed my brother."

Fred stepped up into Mara's face. She was quite tall for a woman, but Fred still towered over her by at least a head and a half.

Anguish flickered over Mara's face, but she quickly buried it under annoyance and determination. 

"You. Cursed. My. Brother," repeated Fred.

Fred grabbed Mara's throat, spun her around, and slammed her into the door with a heavy thud. Mara's face pinched together, and she groaned as a dull ache radiated through her skull.

Fred held his wand against her temple. His breathing ran uneven through his gritted teeth, his face starting to match the shade of his hair. Fred's fingers shifted around her throat. He wasn't pressing against her windpipe, but his fingers did seem to methodically dig in every so often into her carotid, making Mara a little lightheaded.

And...

Aroused?

"Please," she begged. "Just hear me out."

"I'm listening. Thankfully I have two ears to do so," he seethed. "That curse could have killed my brother."

"But it didn't," she spat. "You're lucky I've got bloody good aim."

"No, I reckon you have terrible aim and that's why he's not dead."

Mara shoved Fred so aggressively that he stumbled back a few feet. "Do you know who I am? Besides the woman who was forced into that battle and did what she could NOT to kill anyone?!"

"I-No," he stammered. His resolve to kill her was crumbling.

"I'm Mara fucking Malfoy, okay? Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up in a prestigious Death Eater household? One where other Death Eaters come and go as they please? Eat in our kitchen and laugh about some muggle they've tortured or some half blood they killed." Mara shoved Fred again. "Like it's some common, high praise thing. To sit back and not choke on your morning coffee while they discuss the vile things they want to do to people once Voldemort reigns? To be the black fucking sheep of the black sheep family of the wizarding world?" She shoved him again, and the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, causing him to fall back onto it.

"I spent YEARS just fucking miserable. I couldn't make friends because everyone feared me. Feared I was using them or making fun of them. The only friends I could make were rotten to the core like fucking Crabbe or Goyle or Nott or that pissant Parkinson."

Now, it was Mara towering over Fred. She stood with one leg between his, the other on the outside.

Fred wasn't sure what he was feeling either.

Confusion and reluctance, sure.

Arousal as well?

As Fred watched Mara's speech spew from her lips, he was entranced. Her eyes betrayed no flicker of a lie.

"Do you know the worst part of it all?" she hissed. Fred remained silent and just watched her, his eyes softening just a bit. "Leaving Draco behind. He wanted no part of this world either. Me, being the eldest, I was supposed to be initiated." 

Mara pulled back on the sleeve of her black traveling cloak to reveal the dark mark tattoo. Tears were now welling in her eyes, and she was angry at that. Why was she revealing so much to this man?

Was it her guilt?

"I was forced into this. Forced into that battle that night. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I made _sure_ my curse wouldn't kill, at the very least. And in all the chaos, the thunder, the cracks of spells being shot, people yelling, there was only one sound I could focus on. The agonized screams of pain from your brother. It has haunted me every single day for months. I haven't slept at all because his cries echo in my brain over, and over, and over."

Mara was unhinged now. She had never divulged to anyone besides her baby brother how she felt.

"So, when I left, I knew I couldn't take Draco. And I knew no matter how much he wanted to go, he wouldn't anyway. He'd be too scared. I left. Left him there to take my place. To face the terrible, awful," Mara couldn't finish her sentence as sobs consumed her.

The thought of Draco hurting or killing someone haunted her even more.

But she couldn't go back. She was wanted now.

Betrayed her family. Betrayed The Dark Lord.

Fred sat up on the bed and tried to take her hand, but she yanked it away. 

"Just fucking kill me already," she seethed. "I can't-I can't do this anymore."

Fred watched Mara's head hang, her dark, straight hair falling around her face, hiding the torment she'd been carrying for months. He lifted her head up by her chin, and this time, she didn't flinch. He peered into the dark blue centers of her eyes, the ocean of them flooding out like a tsunami. 

Maybe there's a reason it's called "devil's tango". Fred should have hated Mara. He should have killed her like he intended, like she begged for.

But he couldn't.

Instead, he yanked her down onto him and pulled her in for a life altering kiss.

Mara was beyond shocked at first, and though she wanted nothing more than to dissolve into Fred Weasley, she didn't. She unstuck herself from him and slapped him, but he didn't budge. 

And she didn't move from on top of him.

"Are you trying to get me off of you or turn me on more?" he smirked.

Mara's mouth just fell open a bit, and Fred let his index finger glide over her bottom lip. As her mouth opened more, he slowly slid his finger over her lip, over her teeth, and over her tongue. Mara closed her eyes and sucked delicately on his finger, imagining it was his cock.

"I was wondering what that pretty little mouth could do," he whispered.

Mara bobbed her head back until his finger pulled out with a distinct "pop". 

"It can do a lot more than that," she said sternly. She quickly threw off her traveling cloak and raced her hands to the belt buckle nestled in Fred's jeans. She hurriedly and clumsily unfastened it and his pants, pulling everything down past his ankles. 

His hardened cock flung up to his belly button, and Mara didn't even give herself a chance to be enamored with its size. She took it in one hand and in her mouth instantly, sloppily moving up and down his shaft in succinct movements.

Her other hand slid up his shirt over the bumps of his abs until she reached his nipple. She glided over it for a moment, earning a terse response of a moan from Fred. His head collapsed back into the mattress, and she pinched it lightly, eliciting an even heftier response.

At first, Fred wanted to protest. No one had ever touched him like this. It was foreign, but it lit him up. And the way her tongue swirled around his tip, he wasn't sure how long he could last.

He dug his fingers through her hair, pushing it back.

Maybe it was her tight lips around his cock, or maybe it was his sense of moral obligation to give people second chances, but he completely absolved her of the wrong doings she did.

He could hear the earnestness in her voice earlier as it had cracked more and more with each word.

No cold blooded killer could fake that.

And besides.

George wasn't dead. 

Fred threw his shirt off of him and lifted Mara back and tore her shirt up and off her as well. Her breasts bounced from the force, and Fred was instantly drawn to them. Cupping one in one hand, he devoured the other with his mouth. 

Mara couldn't take it anymore.

She pulled away and stood to peel off the rest of her clothes until she was fully naked with Fred. His chest heaved as he drank in the sharp curves of her body, wanting nothing more than to be a long time traveler around every twist and bend. 

She climbed on top of him and sunk herself down, unable to wait any longer for him to be inside of her.

She had to go down extra slow to adjust to her size. No one compared to this.

Not Zabini.

Not Diggory.

Not Flint or Macmillan. 

With every thrust of her hips further down into him, she felt lost in the moment, lost in his touch. His hands were rough and calloused, but they felt so gentle on her skin.

They felt...protective.

Like maybe one day she could be forgiven. One day she could be seen.

Fred flipped her over onto her back and didn't waste a moment. He plowed into her like they both might die any moment. He brought his hand back to her throat in a moment of inspiration, and she struggled to resist the smile tugging at her lips.

"Thought I saw a glimmer of arousal last time we were like this," he chuckled.

Fred squeezed the sides of her neck lightly until she was gasping at all the oxygen leaving her head. She draped her legs over his shoulder, bending herself almost in half to get Fred deeper inside of her. Fred used his free hand to care for her neglected clit, and Mara found herself driving closer and closer towards the edge.

"I'm gonna-" she breathed.

"Cum on my fucking cock," hissed Fred.

Mara didn't hold back her cries and whimpers. Damn all the neighbors. She didn't care. Fred groaned like a raging animal, gutturally, until they were cumming together. Fred held inside of her for a moment, trying to steady himself. He laid his forehead against hers and just felt the weight of the world drop from both their shoulders.

Fred and Mara showered together. It was a little awkward at first. Neither of them really knew what to make of what just happened. When they finished and redressed, they both stood in the room anxiously. 

"You take the bed," he offered.

"No, no please. I'll take the floor."

Fred laid on one side of the bed and looked up at Mara. "It'd be a tight squeeze," he said while looking at the small empty space next to him. "But I think we're both experts at tight squeezes by now," he winked.

Mara couldn't help but chuckle. She looked down at the ground for a moment before relenting. She sunk into the space next to him, neither of them touching either other really. The fading light of day made the room dimmer and dimmer. 

They both laid awake on their backs and stared up at the ceiling until it was almost pitch black in the room. Only a faint glow of moonlight pooled in the crack of the curtain.

"I can't imagine what it was like growing up a Malfoy and not wanting to be a prick," breathed Fred.

"And I _can_ imagine what I'd do if someone hurt my brother," she added. "I don't blame you for having wanted me dead."

"Where will you go next?" he asked.

"I don't know," she whispered. "Maybe somewhere in Wales. Haven't been around there yet. Might be best to just leave the country. They'll know the depths of my betrayal runs deeper than they realized."

Silence filled the room, but this time, it wasn't awkward. Mara spoke up again. "What about you? Where will you go?"

"I reckon...I'll follow you to the ends of the earth," he mumbled.

"Fred..."

"Someone's got to watch your back. Someone's got to watch mine. I intend on getting back to my brother in one piece."

"And I'll make sure you do," she whispered. "Unless, you want me to take off your ear? Go back to being completely identical?" she giggled.

"I hate you," laughed Fred.

Mara curled into the nook of his arm and onto his chest. Fred stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head until she finally lulled into sleep. A peaceful one this time. Not one plagued and riddled by the monstrosity of her guilt.

And she knew how she could begin to move on.


	4. Stuck in the Middle with You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Weasley, fifth year.
> 
> You, sixth year.
> 
> Bill Weasley, seventh year.
> 
> What will happen when you're caught in a sticky situation with the two devilishly handsome, oldest Weasley sons?

You walked down the empty halls of Hogwarts from the library back towards Gryffindor tower. Fall was quickly transitioning into winter, and the soft autumn daylight was leaving the world earlier and earlier each day.

It hardly crept into the open breezeway as you continued to walk, hardly passing by any students. 

You rounded a corner when suddenly, a muscular arm popped out of a closet and pulled you in. From the definition alone and the freckles that lined the arm, you knew it was probably one of the Weasley boys. No one else in school had nearly as many freckles as them.

Your body slammed into the second eldest Weasley son, Charlie Weasley. He quickly closed the door behind you as quietly as he could while shushing you.

"Char-" you started before he slammed his hand over your mouth.

You couldn't see anything in the dingy closet, but his short, curly, red hair stuck out like a sore thumb against the blackness.

You didn't really know Charlie. You knew him from watching quidditch and seeing him at all the inevitable parties that followed when matches were won. He was a bloody good seeker, really fit, a superb ladies man like his older brother Bill.

Oh, Bill.

The door swung open again, and before you could even turn around to see who it was, you were sandwiched between him and Charlie.

There wasn't any room to move. Your ass was completely pressed up against whoever just came in, and your chest fit perfectly against Charlie's. You could feel every ripple of his pecs, his abs, his biceps as he tried to get comfortable in the space.

"Where are they?" whispered Charlie.

When the mystery man spoke up, you knew it was Bill. His voice was gravelly and husky.

"Who's this?" asked Bill.

"Innocent bystander. Didn't want her caught in the cross fire," said Charlie.

"Haven't I seen you before?" asked Bill.

"We have Arithmancy together," you gritted.

"YES! You're always helping me out in that class," he chuckled.

You swallowed hard. You always helped him because you had a crush on him. He was so helpless when it came to Arithmancy. He always kept his shoulder length hair in a small back pony, but a few pieces always dangled around the sides of his face. He always pushed them back when he was frustrated, and he did it a lot. 

You couldn't just abandon him.

Bill slowly slid his hands up your arms, breaking you out of your thoughts. It made you shiver a little, and you almost flinched away from his touch, but there wasn't anywhere to go.

"Sorry," he whispered in your ear. The warmth of his breath trickled down your ear lobe and spread across your neck. "You alright?"

"Fine. Can someone please tell me why you two are hiding?"

"Fred and George just nicked a bunch of goods from Filch's office. Bill and I here were the distraction. We're hiding from Snape," explained Charlie.

You cleared your throat lightly. "Right, and um, how long do you intend on keeping me here?"

"Just until we know it's safe," cooed Bill.

Roughly 20 minutes passed, and you were starting to grow weary. You sighed heavily and groaned a bit as your knees started to ache. 

"You can rest your head on my shoulder if you're tired," offered Charlie.

You thought it sounded like a good idea at first, so you did so. In doing so, however, you ass pressed further back into Bill's groin. You wouldn't have noticed at first if he hadn't said anything.

"You know, darling? I can think of a way to keep you awake," he whispered. You could clearly picture the smirk growing on his face as he said it.

"Are you seriously hitting on me with your brother right here?" you hissed. You wanted to come across a bit more cold, but you couldn't deny the way your mind was in free fall. How you were thinking of both Bill _and_ Charlie.

Being pressed up against both of them sent you reeling.

Bill's hands roamed up your thighs and grabbed onto your hips. He lifted your skirt completely up, exposing your bottom which was still pressed tight against him.

"We can pretend I'm not here," chuckled Charlie.

"Or we can pretend you are," you breathed hoarsely. You slid your hand down the toned muscles of his chest until you reached the crotch of his trousers. He started to grow instantly from your touch, and Bill wasn't far behind as your started to grind your hips back into him.

It wasn't often you found yourself wedged between two insanely hot brothers in a stuffy closet.

Why not make the most of it?

As Bill's hands methodically wandered your body, taking extra measure not to give in to you yet, you started to unbuckle Charlie's belt until you freed his fully hard erection. It's size was almost intimidating, so you were almost a bit happy that at the moment, you could only get your hands on it.

You'd never felt something so big.

And you'd never know it just looking at him or knowing him. He wasn't arrogant. He didn't walk the halls like he owned everything. In fact, he was always kind to everyone. He always made sure he was around to help first years find their classes, and he abhorred talking too much about quidditch. He didn't like the attention.

But he sure was loving all this attention.

As you slowly started to pump him, you heard a soft thud of his head against the wall followed by a whispery moan.

Bill ripped your panties down to your thighs, his fingers gently mowing through your folds, carefully avoiding touching you properly. "Say, Charlie?" he asked.

"Mmmm, yes, Bill?" breathed Charlie shakily.

"How good is she making you feel?"

"Bloody excellent," he groaned.

"Hm." Bill sunk two fingers instantly into you, causing you to jolt forward harder into Charlie's chest. "Good girl," he crooned in your ear.

You kept one hand on Charlie's shaft, slowly picking up your pace and focusing on the soft, spongy end as his breathing grew more and more rapid. Your other arm pushed against his chest and held onto the top of his shoulder for stability.

Bill's free hand delicately inched up your spine. It was almost ticklish, but it was hard to focus on that feeling when all the other sensations around you grew overwhelming.

The most arousing part of it all was the closest still being clouded in so much darkness, even after having time to adjust to it. Being faced away from Bill as well, you had no idea what his next moves would be, and it made you throb around his fingers at the anticipation.

"Blimey, Charlie. She's like a bloody waterfall back here," said Bill with a slight grin in his tone.

You could hear Charlie smiling back as he spoke. "Bill, I reckon we can amplify that."

Charlie hunched down ever so slightly until his hand could reach your clit, slowly stretching his fingers down to meet Bill's to collect some moisture to spread. His fingers worked expertly, subtly. You could feel your legs starting to give way, and your gripped your fingers deeper into Charlie's shoulder.

Maybe they could faintly see each other, or maybe they just knew each other well enough to be on the same page, wordlessly.

They slowed their actions simultaneously, causing you to whine out.

"Darling, can you promise to be quiet if we promise to let you cum?" asked Bill.

You nodded into Charlie's chest, still working tirelessly on him as he himself grew closer to orgasm. You could feel each shudder against you and hear his heartbeat increasing in tempo.

They picked up their movements back to their original pace, and you were all but pressing your ass forward and backwards into Bill, fucking his fingers as they held strong over the ridges of your G-spot.

Bill's free hand snaked into the back of you hair, curling into a ball around it and tugging on it slightly. "Merlin, you're so fucking sexy," he whispered.

"Fuck," hissed Charlie. "I'm close."

Bill tightened his grip on your hair. "Fuck my fingers you little slut."

You banged your head against Charlie's collarbone before finding your mouth closing in on the cotton of his shirt, allowing it to muffle your whimpers as you started to cum. If it wasn't hot in this closet before, you were all certainly sweating now.

Charlie's cock tensed in your hand, as did the rest of his muscles against you, as the flow of his ejaculation seeped all over your hand and wrist.

Everyone pulled apart best they could. 

Bill handed you a handkerchief to clean up.

Your legs shook considerably, and you knew if you weren't caught tight between these two then you would surely crumple to the ground.

They could feel your body quivering, and Charlie placed a small kiss on your forehead while Bill rubbed your arms up and down. 

"You okay?" asked Charlie.

"I'm...fine," you lied. You were better than fine, but you didn't want to boost their egos. And orgasm or not, you were still cramped in a tiny closet. "When can we leave?"

"About 30 minutes ago," chuckled Bill.

"Bill!" you hissed.

"Bill's only kidding," laughed Charlie. "We probably would have been in here about this long anyway."

"I just like to see you squirm," whispered Bill.

As you finally steadied yourself, Bill helped you hike up all your clothes, and just in time too.

The closet door swung open.

"Bloody cozy in here, huh?" someone said. As Bill backed up to allow you out, you saw the devilish grins of Fred and George. You weren't sure which one said it, but based on personality alone, you guessed it was Fred.

"I was-we were, um. It's not-" you stammered.

Fred and George burst into laughter. "There's not need to be coy. Your secret's safe with us," said George.

"Got what you needed?" asked Charlie.

Fred held up a rather large, intricately folded piece of parchment. It looked blank on the outside, and from what glimpses you could see inside, blank as well. "Got it!"

"Hope it was worth it," said Charlie.

"Don't act like it wasn't," smirked Fred.

The five of you walked to Gryffindor tower. You stayed mostly silent but just laughed along with every joke the four brothers cracked. Every so often, you caught Bill's gaze lingering over you before he would look away quickly with a small smile.

Bill was normally so collected and cool.

He looked almost...shy?

It was strange to see him this way, but you liked it.

Unable to hide the flush of all your excitement, you decided to hang back in the common room for a bit to cool down. Charlie, Fred, and George waved you goodnight and bolted up the stairs, having a race to see who could get up first.

Bill hadn't moved, just laughing at his brothers before turning to you.

His gaze bore into you, and you had to look away. You stared into the hot flames of the fireplace, becoming transfixed with the crackle and the way the flames dances about.

Bill sat next to you, causing the cushion to sink and your body to jostle. 

You finally looked at him.

Bill studied you intently, his dark eyes softening. "You're beautiful," he said faintly. Almost so much so that you weren't sure he even said it.

You opened your mouth slightly to speak, but were unable to form words. Instead, Bill's gaze flitted to your lips, and he crashed into you with a searing kiss. He held onto your face and pulled you into him further.

It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, that you completely and utterly dissolved into William Arthur Weasley.


	5. Intertwined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my fiercely loyal, funniest, most loving friend, Emily. You are my twin flame, my absolute heart and soul no matter how much time and space separates us.
> 
> Eliza Ward spent six of her seven years at Hogwarts loving George Weasley, and he did the same with her. As the hurtling realities of the real world started to crash around them, they split. Can a little life surely get in the way of true love?

As Eliza Ward walked blearily into McClavern's Tavern after work, she couldn't tell you why she didn't at first recognize the twin brother of her first and only love. Why his stark orange hair didn't stick out to her, or why his broad quidditch riddled shoulders didn't speak to her. Or the way that his eccentric orange and brown checkered shirt sat on those shoulder didn't call to her.

Perhaps it was the engagement announcement in The Daily Prophet. It was small. A section no larger than a British note, but she could never not notice the handsome face of George Weasley.

And she could never not notice how five years later, she was still deeply in love with him.

She should be happy for him. He was settling into his 30's now, so it was about time he fell in love again and nestled into domestic life with someone.

She just wished it was her and not this Allison McCarthy.

The moving photo of him leaning in to kiss her sharp cheekbones seared into her mind, and she needed a drink.

She sat a few seats away from Fred, and Fred was hurt that she didn't recognize or acknowledge him. "Scotch, neat," she grunted to the bartender. 

Fred spoke up as loud as he could so she could hear but not so much so that he was obnoxious. "Put it on my tab, please."

Eliza's eyes instantly bolted to Fred, and she was frozen in place. It was only Fred, not George. She could see that in the scar across his brow, the way his voice was huskier than George's, and the way his nose was slightly more crooked than his brother's.

She surveyed his face for any signs of her first love. She knew it was futile. Fred and George may look almost identical, but they were opposite in almost every other way.

"A hello, a thank you, good to see you, anything would be nice," chuckled Fred.

"S-sorry," she mumbled.

Fred studied her back just as intently. "I'm sorry I'm not him."

Eliza got out of her seat and moved to sit next to him. "Not sure that'd be any better, to be honest."

The bartender handed over the drink, one she intended on sipping slowly, but she knocked back the bitter, amber liquid in one swig.

Fred's expression was crestfallen as he watched his old best friend with a certain sadness. She wasn't the lively and exuberant girl he remembered. Always cracking some joke, always ready to be apart of any plan he and George cooked up. She was one of the only women he'd ever met that could match he and George measure for measure.

"Allison isn't half bad," he whispered.

Eliza winced in her seat. She wanted George to be happy, but she also didn't want to hear about it.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Another, scotch, please," she said while avoiding his gaze.

"Never pegged you for a scotch drinker. You always whined about firewhiskey," he joked.

"Never needed to take the edge off like this," she muttered.

She sighed heavily and rested her chin in her hand, propped up on the bartop.

"Want to come by the shop?" he asked.

Eliza hadn't been to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes since they opened. They opened their store shortly before the break up, and she could never bring herself to go there after. 

She couldn't face Fred or George. Couldn't stand around in wonder at all they'd accomplished and see the store that so closely resembled who they were as people and brothers.

"Now?" she asked a little incredulously.

"Yeah, the shop's closed, so I can give you a grand, private tour."

Eliza stared into the bottom of her scotch glass and pretended it _was_ firewhiskey. She swigged it all with a small groan and accepted Fred's offer. Fred offered to pay for this drink as well, so when he closed out, he escorted her through the door and down the street. 

She knew Diagon Alley was only a few blocks away. She was surprised that in five years, in all the times she'd stopped by that tavern, this was the first she had seen of either of them. She always presumed that they took their drinks at The Leaky Cauldron, but perhaps Fred changed his course tonight to step away from the wizarding world for just a moment, same as Eliza had.

As they walked the surprisingly empty streets of London, her and Fred fell back into an old comfort. He did his best to tell his greatest new jokes while also beaming about the success of their company.

Eliza was very happy for them.

As they walked down the streets of Diagon Alley, Eliza smiled at the stores they passed by. She remembered getting her wand at Ollivander's, getting her black cat Patterslink at the pet shop, and then her smile faded as they passed by Flourish and Blott's. 

Where she first met George.

He and Fred were leaning against the railing of the second story while she and her friend Katherine giggled about some inside joke.

Fred and George thought the two girls were cute, so they used the opportunity to test out their extendable ear to eavesdrop on their conversation. George slipped up and accidentally sent the ear too far, and it brushed the back of Eliza's neck, causing her to yelp out.

When she looked up and saw the two twins trying to hide their embarrassment, Eliza marched up those steps and gave them a piece of her mind. By the end though, she couldn't help but smile after they explained their trinket. She was utterly impressed by their magic and innovation.

George looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes.

He was entranced, fully curious.

Here was someone he could see himself falling in love with. Someone who could appreciate their prankster demeanors but also didn't hold back in reprimanding them when they needed to be knocked back to earth.

One conversation with her was all he needed to know that she would change his life, but she didn't give in so easily.

She kept her heart guarded for her entire first year, no matter how much George insisted on helping her study, showing her around, and overall just being in her space when she allowed.

Eventually, she caved.

How could she ever resist those devious eyes, that rugged body that fit perfectly against hers, or that empathetic way he clung onto every word she spoke?

One day, she had enough of resisting, and she blurted out how much she loved him, and he just grinned like he already knew. 

The rest was history.

She became lost in all those thoughts that she hadn't even realized that Fred had led her inside the doors of their shop.

She marveled at the haphazard but intricate way that products were strewn on the walls and along stands on the floor. The shop was easily three stories. The railings of the stairs a deep, cherry wood with multi-colored banisters along the way.

The place was a bit chaotic and eccentric, but it was perfectly representative of them, just like she imagined.

"What do you think?" asked Fred slowly. He had always appreciated and respected her opinion.

"It's bloody amazing," she laughed. She turned to face her friend, feeling a pang of guilt that in all these years of losing George, she let herself lose Fred too. "I'm so proud of you two."

As Eliza browsed the many items from love potions to extendable ears, skiving snack boxes, smart-answer quills, exploding card sets, and so many things in between, the smile that hung on her face was bittersweet.

Fred took her upstairs to their office, which was insanely a mess.

They had two desks pushed up against each other, chairs on either side. Computers and phones at both, papers strewn about. One desk was a bit less cluttered, and she guessed to herself that it was George's desk.

She hesitated sitting there, and Fred sensed this hesitation, so he took George's desk seat.

"I miss you," he spat as soon as she was comfortable. He ran his fingers through his hair and immediately regretted potentially making her feel awkward.

Before he could apologize, she did so first. "I miss you too. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I get it. If I had my heart broken by someone with a twin, I'd never want to see their face either," he teased grimly.

"Fred, that's not fair," she started. "You are not George."

"I know. I just-" but he was interrupted by the ringing of his personal cell phone. "Sorry." He picked up the call and grumbled a few "okays" and "yeses" as he rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

When he hung up, he looked at Eliza ruefully. "Sorry, Liza, I need to go take care of this. You can stay here if you want. I won't be gone more than 15 minutes."

Liza.

Fred used to call her Liza when they were close.

George would call her El. She felt like she was transported back in time. 

She looked at Fred and just nodded. She should have just gone home. She didn't want to intrude if Fred wanted to get back home anytime soon, but it was clear that he wanted to catch up with her, and she longed to do the same.

Fred disapparated with a loud crack, and Eliza was left in the office alone. She stood to walk around and take a closer look at everything.

They each had separate muggle calendars on their sides of the room. Fred's was a collection of the Manchester United football team, and George had one of different scenic shots. She couldn't help but eventually roam over to George's desk.

She was drawn to it like a seismic pull. Like she always had been with him.

She smiled at the sticky note on the desk that read, "ASK MUM FOR APPLE PIE RECIPE."

Eliza almost jumped out of her skin when the sound of another thunderous crack filled the room. "Blimey, Fred," she uttered with closed eyes. "I thought you wouldn't be back for a while."

When he didn't answer, Eliza opened her eyes and almost fainted.

"Hi, El."

"Ge-George. Hi, sorry. Um, Fred and I-He just-um," she stammered.

She could hardly speak when she looked at him. Half because of her heart swelling at all the old feelings rushing back, half because he looked overly tired. Almost defeated.

Unhappy?

She wanted nothing more than to collapse into his embrace and make sure he was okay.

"I just came by because I forgot my phone," he whispered. He moved towards his desk, opened a drawer, and took it out. As he stepped back and looked at Eliza, his own heart hurt.

He should have left. Allison was at home preparing dinner.

But he couldn't move.

"It's uh, it's _really_ good to see you," he whispered. His eyes roved over her body. She thought she imagined it, but maybe she didn't.

George took note of her tight khaki pants with a tucked in, dark blue dress blouse. She wore a black trench coat that covered most of her features, but George knew them well. The memory of her body against his was forever ingrained in the depths of his mind and in the warmth of his skin.

"You too," she mumbled faintly. "The store, uh. The store looks great. Hear it's doing well," she said more firmly.

"It is, it is," he chuckled. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He always did that when he was nervous or regretted something.

Could it be both?

"Congrats, by the way," she huffed with feigned enthusiasm. "On the engagement," she gritted. 

George could see right through her and how much it tore her apart. "Thank you. Actually, I should go," he breathed slowly. "Allison is uh, waiting at home making dinner."

Eliza nodded curtly, but George still didn't leave. They stayed glued there, staring at each other until it was unbearable. "So, goodbye then," said Eliza.

"Right, goodbye," he said tersely. 

And yet, he still didn't move.

"You're-you're still here..." said Eliza softly.

"I am," he responded just as tenderly.

There was something pulsing in the air between them. Something that bewitched George to stay in no way a spell or potion could ever do. It was something he couldn't fight against, and _he didn't want to._

He knew he should. His perfect fiancé was at their perfect home prepping a perfect meal.

And yet, there was nothing perfect about it.

Because it wasn't Eliza.

George closed the gap between them in one giant stride and towered over Eliza, forcing her to back into the desk. She gripped the edge of the sturdy wood with both hands as George just silently peered down at her.

He took her face in both hands like she was made of clay. He dug his fingers and thumbs into the soft features of her tawny face and counted the mini chocolate chips of her freckles, even though he knew it was 34. His eyes searched her as if he was trying to make sure she was real. 

Not some figment of his imagination, or a boggart, or someone under the guise of Polyjuice.

Eliza couldn't find any words to speak, and she didn't want to. She relished in his touch that she lost half a decade ago, no matter how wrong it was.

The electricity charged deeper between them. It was no longer avoidable.

"Do you feel it too?" he asked.

She should have said no. He was engaged. She should have told him to be the perfect fiancé, but couldn't. She loved George because he was always so imperfect and real.

"Yes," she said strongly.

George brushed her wild, curly hair behind her ear. "I've been so stupid," he murmured. He kept his hand over the side of her head, rolling his thumb back and forth over her earlobe.

"You're not stupid," said Eliza.

"I am, I am," he muttered while he closed his eyes. One tear escaped from the depths of his hazel eyes, and this time, she touched him too. She wiped away his tear and held his face back. "El," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"El, El, El, El, El," he whispered again.

Eliza didn't respond. She didn't know how to. 

All she wanted to do was cry and blurt out how much she loved him.

"It's you," he said.

"What?"

"It's you. It's always been you. I fucking let you go and broke your heart," he cried.

"George..."

"No, please, listen to me." He stepped back a little to more clearly see her face, but he didn't let go of it. "I-My heart, El, it's yours. It is so deeply intertwined with yours, and I buried myself in other women when I lost you. Allison is...amazing, but she was just there to make me feel like I deserved to love again, and I-I-I-I thought I could move on. I thought after five fucking years that I would stop waking up with nightmares of losing you, but they're always there. You're always haunting me, and I _relish_ in it." Sobs started to consume George's large frame. "I relish in it because it's better than not having you in my life at all. I welcome the ghost of you that follows me around because it is the closest thing I have to _you_."

Eliza was too stunned to respond. She couldn't prevent her own tears from streaking her face.

She could feel George's body shift towards her, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him ducking down for a kiss, but she pushed him away.

"I have never, ever stopped loving you," she said. "But this is wrong. You have an adoring woman waiting for you at home..."

George stepped back once more and took Eliza's hands. "I'm going to go end it. Right now."

"George, don't do that for me."

"No, I'm doing it for me. I can't be with her when I know I will be madly in love with you until the end of time. Even when I die, I know I will stop at nothing to find you in the next life, and the next one, and the next one."

Eliza nodded. She understood how he felt and could sense the earnestness in his voice and his eyes.

"Give me an hour, maybe two," he said. "Just...meet me along the Thames. That little ice cream place we went to almost every day summer of your fifth year." George took another large step back and disapparated before he could give her a chance to say no.

Because in his heart, he hoped, begged, pleaded that she would come. She had every reason not to, he told himself. But he hoped against reason that she would come.

Another snap of the air came a few minutes later, and Eliza had hoped it was George again, but instead, it was Fred.

Fred could see the anguish in her face, and he immediately held her. She sobbed into his chest as she recounted the whole affair. Fred stroked her hair until she calmed. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"What can I do? I cannot walk away. I cannot say no. He's right. My heart and his are so intertwined. I don't think I can ever be without him," she stated.

"Then let's get you to that rendezvous spot," he smiled.

Fred took Eliza's shaking body under the crook of his arm and apparated her to the spot along the Thames. He sat her on a bench and knelt in front of her. "I'm glad that bloody idiot finally came to his senses," he chuckled lightly.

He waited with her until George came along, ensuring she was safe.

As George took Eliza into his arms, she just cried into the confines of his shirt and held him tighter. She clutched at the muscles in his shoulders and back, making sure this moment didn't threaten to evaporate. George kissed her over and over and over and over until their lips grew numb, and then they kissed some more, neither of them believing this could be real.

Infinitely sad they missed out on the last five years, but indubitably happy that they could get back on track to their little piece of forever.

And as they walked along the Thames under the scarce streetlights and illuminating moon, neither of them spoke. They memorized the feeling of their hands laced together. 

They didn't need words.

At least not right now.

They had forever.


	6. Letters to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2020 was a dumbass year. It had been tough for everyone, so here are some letters written from all the Weasley's with words of encouragement to get you through the new year. :)

_Hello flower,_

_Mollywobbles and I miss you so much around the burrow. You've become the eighth child we never had. I must tell you about this new muggle invention I stumbled upon today. Have you ever heard of a "Clapper"? It's a piece of technology muggles use. They can turn lights on and off with the clap of their hands! Merlin's beard! I almost fainted when I saw it work. Surely there's magic in it somewhere, and I intend to find out. I hope your Christmas and New year were well. I know you couldn't come here, but that's okay. I tried to save you a slice of apple pie out of principle, but George got his hands on it, as if you're surprised by that. I came downstairs one night for a glass of water, and there he is. Hunched over in front of the open fridge door with pie in hand, crumbs all over his face. He begged me not to tell anyone, so don't breathe a word that I mentioned this. I just thought that you in particular would find it rather endearing, much like I had._

_Please do visit soon. I know it had been a tough year last year, but you are so strong. You lift up every member of this family with your tenacity and light. The house is never the same without you in it._

_Arthur Weasley_

_Hello pumpkin!!!!_

_We all missed you this Christmas. I knitted you another sweater. Should arrive by post any day now! Ginny told me how your other one was torn up in a fist fight. Now, you know I don't approve of violence, but Ginny tells me that Parkinson girl was running her mouth off about the family, and that you said you couldn't hold back any longer. As a distinguished woman of society and as a mother, I am most definitely not telling you that I approve of your actions or that it means a lot to me that you stood up for the family, because that would just be wrong. My tomato plants are thriving better than ever, and I have you to thank for that! That subscription of Wizarding Gardens Today you got for me had some really useful tips I hadn't known of before! I'll be sure to make some hearty tomato soup when you visit as well as a nice warm toastie. _

_Please do visit soon. You always have a home here. I know everyone misses you dearly. Most everyone can't go more than ten minutes without mentioning it or finding someway to connect a memory with you. I hope you can feel the positively tight hug I am wrapping you up in in my mind._

_Warmly,_

_Molly_

_WHERE ARE YOU?!?!?!_

_I know you said coming here for Christmas was probably not going to happen, and that's alright. But please, if you can, get here! Fred and George are driving me mad. They won't stop competing in these stupid competitions saying that whoever wins gets to ask you out. So far, they've competed 10 times, and they're both tied. I fear it'll never end. They're putting on their best smiles, but I think they miss you more than they're letting on and trying to distract themselves with these games._

_Remember that time last year when you were terribly sad, and I got you out of bed for a surprise? I took you out to the clocktower courtyard which had been filled with enchanted snow. I let you believe it was me who set it all up, but really, I was just the delivery boy. It was Fred and George's idea. They remembered how much you loved Christmas and playing in the snow with people you love. They couldn't stand to see you so beaten down from the year (though I don't blame you). They're the ones who enchanted the snow, but they didn't want all the credit. I'm only telling you so that you have all the pieces of the picture incase they decide to swarm you when you do come (and yes I said when not if because Hermione has turned me into a bloody optimist). I know sometimes they're overbearing and a lot to deal with, but they mean well. Just remember that we're all here for you._

_Ron B. Weasley_

_HEY BIIITTCCHHH,_

_In case you've forgotten after the thousand times I've told you, I fucking love you. You are single handedly the most badass person I know. I still can't believe you pummeled Pug face's pug face into the ground. If your knuckles are still bruised by the time you come up, Fred and George have a tube of their Bruise Removal Paste! Did I mention that you're awesome? Please never change. I know last year was hard. I know you confided in me how difficult it was sometimes to even get out of bed and that it made you feel like a failure, but you are anything but. Even on the days you stayed in bed practically all day, you always at least fed and hydrated yourself. That's more than enough. You don't have to be busy 24/7 or accomplish something every day or every week. Just being alive and being you is the most memorable and noble thing you can do, and you are an infinite inspiration to me._

_Please come soon if you can. Fred and George are driving Ron and I mad. They would never admit it, but I swear to god they say your name at least 15 times a day. You'd think you were dating them. You're not in secret, right? I mean if you are, that's totally okay. I'd be glad they were dating someone with a sensible fucking head for once, but just know you never need keep secrets from us. You are family, forever and always. Especially after Pansy._

_All my love,_

_Ginevra Molly Weasley_

_P.S. please make sure you teach me your right hook. Shit is insane._

_Hello love,_

_Do we need to send up the bat signal? (Is that the right muggle reference? You know, that superhero movie you forced me to watch second year. With the bat and the light thingy in the sky and like...he came to it. I DON'T KNOW.)_

_If you got lost along the way, just say the word, and I'll search the ends of the earth to find you and bring you back home. And yes. I said home even though your real home is elsewhere, because the Weasley household will always consider you family. If it isn't obvious, I miss you. I think this is the first time in years that we've been apart for more than a few weeks. I understand why you couldn't spend this holiday with us, even partially, but I won't ever say never! There's still a week left before break is over._

_Though I suppose if I have to settle on waiting to see your face illuminated under dim candle light in dingy stone hallways, I will. It's better than nothing._

_I...I realize this letter is getting a bit sentimental. I wouldn't be surprised if Ron or Ginny ratted George and I out for how we've been feeling. So, I'll own up to it. There's not point in denying it, because loving you is something I am proud of. I know this past year was tough, and you felt as if you weren't the best friend to a lot of people, but you were the most resilient shining star in my life. I have watched you pick up over and over through all the tough luck, all the monstrous cruelty of this last year and still move on day to day. That is nothing short of inspiring._

_You made it through another year, so just hold on a little longer until we can see each other again._

_My heart,_

_Freddie_

_Greetings and salutations,_

_I was displeased to hear that you couldn't come to the burrow this holiday. I must admit that your presence makes the place much, much louder and more obnoxious with the way you laugh and joke with all my other siblings. Though the house isn't that much quieter without you here, it feels almost silent that you're not. I never thought I'd miss it. Though I luxuriate in my privacy, my solace, and my alone time, it always pleases me to see my family smiling. You put the biggest smile on their faces I have ever seen._

_I also miss your opinion on books. I can never talk about classics with anyone. Well, sometimes George, but I'm not allowed to tell anyone that he secretly reads classic romance novels. He's quite fond of Sense and Sensibility, but you didn't hear any of that from me. I know you were struggling to find him a gift this year, but I might have seen a first edition copy of it for a fairly reasonable price at Hugh's bookshop on Clerkenwell Road. Though he would be quite irritated to hear I spilled his secret, I know he would quickly recover knowing how much you'd like him even more for it. And don't deny it. I can practically see the blush on your cheeks right now. You're thinking of spending time by the fire with him like you always have only this time, you're both reading romance novels together. Maybe to each other._

_Yes, I can picture it quite clearly. Needless to say, you have my stamp of approval. Same for his evil counterpart._

_Hope to see you soon. Stay safe and warm,_

_Percy I. Weasley_

_Hello darling,_

_Do I need to sing a song to get you here? I can sing Where are you Christmas with your name instead of Christmas. I know how much you like Christmas and all the music and whatnot. Will that help? Please, throw me a bone. Anything. I'll even Imperius Percy to go out in the snow to look for you if I need to._

_Honest, it's okay you're not here. I don't want to guilt you at all. I do want you to know though how much we miss you. As Fred and I shoot the shit on the couch by the fireplace, I always think of you. I think of the countless nights we've spent on the common room couches in front of that fire. Just hours and hours of sitting and talking about nothing. Studying for Potions or Herbology. Well, not always studying. At least for me. You know I'm hopeless. Truthfully, while you were always so studious and perfect, I couldn't tear my eyes away from you. The way the fire flickered across your face and heightened the furrow in your concentrated brow or lit up your eyes that are already somehow so bright._

_I miss those nights. I miss you. You give the best hugs. I know you always say that to me, but now I'm saying it to you because it's true. I don't think anyone has ever fit quite as perfectly against me. Well, mum does, but that's because she's mum. Mother hugs are definitely the best, but you are an incredibly close second._

_If you do come round before we go back to school, Fred and I hatched up a plan for a prank on Ron. I think you'll find it rather brilliant, but I won't divulge in the details. Can't leave a paper trail, and besides, I need yet another thing to entice you to come back to me._

_Always,_

_George_

_Darling, darling, darling,_

_Please come home. I am one shot of firewhiskey away from exploding at Percy's pretentious arsehole self, and two shots of firewhiskey away from hexing Fred and George's tongues off for a day if they don't stop moaning on about you. Seriously, I know you're amazing, but are you part veela like Fleur? How is it that they're borderline obsessed?_

_I mean, I truthfully can't act surprised. I remember the first time you came to the burrow, they wouldn't stop pestering you. Demanding attention from you, because they always received so much attention from everyone in their life. You wouldn't give it to them either, and good thing. Most women do so instantly because they look good and are so charming. It made them want you to talk to them even more. You joked about giving them bat-bogeys. Then Fred slipped ice down the back of your shirt as a joke because you mentioned how hot that summer day was. You whipped around so fast and showed no mercy. To him and George._

_From that day on, I knew you weren't someone to be trifled with. I've never seen anyone so easily and calmly deal with their antics when it goes too far. Most people just bat their eyelids and forgive them, hoping it'll give them an in with my brothers._

_But for the sake of my sanity, please stop playing so hard to get. I think they might burst into song sometime soon, they're that chuffed with you._

_Warmest,_

_William Arthur Weasley_

_Hi sweetheart,_

_I just have one question. Why are you there and not here? Because if you're there, then you're not here, and if you're not here because you are there, then I cannot tell you the great news!! I mean, I can, but it won't be as exciting. So, I suppose this will do. The team and I have discovered a new species of Flobberworms. It's incredible and miraculous. We're not sure how long they've been around or how they came about, but this is a great discovery for Magizoology. Sometimes I wish I went into that field instead of Dragonology. There's so many wonderful and diverse creatures, but I wouldn't trade my horned, fiery beasts for anything._

_I hope you can come to the burrow soon. I have to keep hiding the bottles of firewhiskey from Bill, and it's a perilous task to do alone. Ginny thinks I should just leave him be, and I know how much he and Percy are usually on edge, but I don't want him doing something he regrets. I just know that if you were here, everything would be a bit more peaceful. Well, not peaceful in the sense of quiet, but peaceful in the sense that everyone would be more okay._

_But fret not if you cannot come. We will all be okay anyway. Just having you in our thoughts is always enough to encourage us to be on our best behaviors. I'm not sure how you bring that out of us, but I am thankful that you can somehow keep us all on our toes but also keep us in line. I leave back to Romania in a few days, so if I don't see you, just know I'm pulling you into a giant, virtual group hug. And also if not, all the more reason for me to keep pestering you to come visit me at the dragon sanctuary!_

_Fondly,_

_Char_


	7. Three Shots of Firewhiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy meets girl, but they don't fall in love. At least not at first. When Bill Weasley met Eve Langdon, neither of them really saw each other as anything more than friends. They spent all their years at Hogwarts side by side, but in their last week of school forever, they decided to go all out with a bottle of firewhiskey in Eve's secluded dorm room.

Bill and Eve sat across from each other on Eve's Hogwarts dorm bed. Eve was painting Bill's fingernails black when he interrupted her. "Wait!" he shouted. "Paint these ones pink," he said while gesturing to his middle fingers.

Eve giggled and asked why those in particular. 

"So I can piss off the haters even more when I flip them off."

"Uhh, cringe. Please don't say haters, Bill. You're too cool for that."

Bill rolled his eyes but smiled fondly at his friend. They shared a comfortable silence as Bill's nail's dried, and when they did, Eve rolled over and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey from beneath her bed.

"Wicked," grinned Bill. "Say, how many shots of firewhiskey does it take to you to do something you normally wouldn't?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" said Eve coyly. "How many does it take YOU?"

"Why don't we drink and find out?"

As Eve opened her bedside drawer for her small stash of shot glasses, she tried to hide the other contents inside. Little did she know that Bill did indeed get a peek.

He cleared his throat and smirked at Eve. "Cheers," he said while clinking her glass.

They downed the shots simultaneously and stared each other down. "Feeling anything?" she asked.

"Nope. Just peachy. You?"

"I feel like I could snog you if you really begged for it, but I wouldn't quite go for it yet," she confessed.

"You? Snogging me? Blimey, Eve. Have you got the hots for me?" he laughed.

"If I do it's only because you did first."

Eve poured two more shots of the golden liquid and let it slosh down her throat in a fiery burn. Bill took his with hardly any trace of bitterness. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"I see the way you look at me sometimes."

"I always look at you, Eve. That's what humans do."

"Yeah, well a human who doesn't fancy another human wouldn't typically let their eyes linger on that human's hips. Or chest." She snapped her finger in Bill's face because unsurprisingly, he was staring at her tits. "I know they're beautiful," she smirked. "So, admit it. You fancy me."

Eve could hardly believe she was being so bold. Maybe it was a mixture of probably never seeing each other again after a few weeks or the way the flagrant liquor was enticing the words to spew.

Her and Bill were always a bit of each other. Finishing each others sentences and laughing at each others jokes, even when they were bad. She never addressed how she felt because she never truly thought that Bill Weasley, Hogwarts heartthrob, would ever go for her.

But as she waited for her answer, she felt she knew she was wrong. 

He stared at her lips like he was in dire need to drink from their fountain. But as he tore his eyes away, she couldn't help but feel a small crushing in her chest.

"Another?" asked Bill, avoiding the question.

Eve poured another two shots and sulked on the inside. As soon as Bill finished his, he started spouting out relentlessly. "Yes. Fine. I fancy you. Are you happy? I'm sorry it took me seven bloody fucking years to realize it. Or admit it. But yes. I am hopelessly infatuated with you. Anytime someone tells a joke, I search the room for your eyes to see if you liked it or not because I want you to be endlessly happy."

Eve couldn't strain against the upward pull of her lips. "So. Elusive, mysterious Bill Weasley just admitted something near and dear to his heart," she teased. "I've almost never seen this happen. So, three shots of firewhiskey is the magic number, huh?"

Bill gave her a playful shove and muttered something about hexing her if she told anyone.

"I like this softer side of you though," she whispered.

"I quite like my rougher side," he grinned.

She arched a brow at him in interest. "Is that so?" She positioned herself on her hands and knees and crawled over towards Bill. 

"You're challenging me," he guessed.

Eve just shrugged with a half, devious smile that drove Bill crazy.

He clung on to the way her breasts swayed in front of him, the way her lips curved and tugged on his heart, and the way she always fragrantly smelled of honeysuckle and lavender. Bill figured she wouldn't actually do anything except tease him, so he pulled her towards him by the nape of her neck for a kiss.

As he relished in the moment he had waited seven god damn years for, he kissed her like it was the only thing keeping him alive. As if she was breathing air into him.

Little did they both know in that moment was how they would both be changed forever. This moment would be embossed in every hit song from the radio during this time, in every taste of fire whiskey from then on, in every time they threw on the shirts they were currently throwing off of each other, and in the faint smell of nail polish that would always breeze in the air. 

Soon they were both skin to skin, breathless as they tangled in each other on the small bed. 

Bill held onto her face like it was the most precious jewel, and to him, it was. His other hand was now aimlessly wandering her body with a certain impatience, toying with every part as she moaned his name into his mouth.

One of Eve's hands raked over the tight muscles of his chest and abs while the other took his cock in it. She moved slowly, wanting to keep this little piece of time going on forever.

Bill gently bit down and tugged on her lower lip every time he felt a surge of arousal, and soon, they were pressing their foreheads together breathlessly. They stared into each others eyes as they continued to please each other, savoring the way their eyes darkened with lust each passing second.

"Eve," he breathed. 

"Yes?"

Their chests heaved towards each other and away almost like a dance.

"Fuck me," he whispered faintly.

"What's that?" she asked with a sly grin. She had heard him, even if barely. She just wanted him to say it louder.

"I saw the inside of your nightstand. I want you to fuck me," he said more confidently. 

Eve peered into the depths of his dark blue irises for any trace of hesitation, but there was none. As she let go of him, she rolled him over to his back as she straddled him to get a better reach on the drawer. She couldn't stop smiling to herself.

"What's that cheeky look for?" he asked.

"Three shots of firewhiskey," she chuckled. "Three bloody shots, and you're begging me to fuck you."

She pulled out the black strap that already had an average sized dildo attached. It would do nicely, she thought to herself, at least for his first time. Bill watched her with amazement as she cinched it around her waist, and she watched him the whole time she did it.

Eve leaned down, the rubber cock sliding over his stomach as she did, and she grabbed his throat. "Say it again."

"Evie," he breathed hoarsely. "Please, _please_ fuck me. Make me yours."

Eve positioned herself between his legs while rubbing lube up and down the shaft of her strap on. Bill was now pumping himself harder with each movement, and he spread his legs to give her a better angle. 

She teased his asshole with the tip of her cock, and Bill was already a mess.

She slowly pushed her way inside, careful not to hurt him or overwhelm him. The tip was barely inside before Bill let out a loud and dizzying moan. His thighs trembled around her, and his hand gripped the sheets as he threw his head back.

"F-f-fuck. That feels-that feels amazing," he groaned. 

As Eve pushed in even more at the sight and sound of his arousal, his hips thrust upward in conjunction with more loud, shaky, and strident cries of ecstasy. 

Eve pressed her hands into the back of Bill's thighs, opening himself up more.

"I want to hear you scream for me, Bill," she said slowly.

She started to move in and out at a more steady pace, and Bill couldn't form anything more than a few grunts and whimpers. He could scarcely look at her as he couldn't keep his eyes open from all the pleasure.

His strokes on his cock became lazy as most of his focus had shifted elsewhere.

His gratified moans coursed through her, and she wanted more. She moved his hand off of himself and did the work for him. She pumped him up and down twice as hard, finding the work in tandem with her thrusts to absolutely demolish him in all the best ways.

"Fuuucccckk," he moaned. "Please, please don't stop."

He squirmed beneath her as all his muscles tensed and his vocal reactions grew louder. She wished they had cast _Muffliato_ before they started, but it was too late. And besides, her roommates were most definitely proper sloshed at the Ravenclaw end of year party all the way on the other side of the castle.

Eve gave him exactly what he wanted, and she didn't stop for anything. Bill's clutch became desperate. He didn't know what to do with himself and all his newfound sensations.

Soon enough, Eve picked up her speed, and Bill came with an aggressive, quivering moan from the depths of his chest. Eve rolled her movements to a stop and slowly pulled out of him, placing the strap on back in the drawer after a quick _Scourgify_.

Bill's breathing took a while to get back to normal, so Eve just laid next to him in contented silence. When he finally spoke again, she wondered what this meant for them.

"That-wow. I mean-holy shit," he laughed.

He kissed her gently, still unable to structure a coherent sentence, and as he deepened the kiss, his hands traveled her body once again. This time, _his_ hand eventually found its way around her throat, and he forced her to look at him. "This time, I want you to be the one breathless."

He rolled on top of her and pinned her wrists down above her head. "Don't move," he ordered.

He trailed a line of kissed down her body, stopping along her stomach before moving further. He watched her through half lidded eyes as she started to move her hands to touch his hair. Bill jolted up and pressed her wrists back into the mattress. "What did I say, love?"

When he could tell Eve would obey, he went back down to dispatch his ever hungry mouth through all the folds of her cunt. His tongue was eager to explore every inch and so it did. As he sucked and swirled his tongue around her aching clit, hips bucking up into him, she desperately wanted to touch him, but she kept her promise.

He held her gaze for a few moments, hers filled to the brim with desire for Bill and Bill only.

He sunk two lengthy fingers inside of her, and she let out a moan of anticipation at the building orgasm. Her head dipped down into the mattress as far as it would go, still eager to touch him. Her voice was the only thing she could use to tell him how much she adored him right now.

As Bill's fingers slid over her G-spot with a certain expertise, she lulled closer and closer to the edge. The hotter her core got, the tighter her thighs pressed into the sides of his head, but Bill remained focused.

Soon Eve felt the white, hot flashes sear across her flesh as she had her own release, and Bill carefully plucked himself from her with a satisfied grin.

The two of them, now dotted in sweat, curled together, facing each other. Her cheek rested against his chest, his hands lined up and down her spine.

"Three shots of firewhiskey," she laughed again.

"I would have done it without all that," he confessed. He tilted her head up so that he could kiss her forehead, and Eve felt really beautiful in that moment.

"You're such a sap," she teased.

"Only for you," he whispered.

Eve and Bill tucked in under her layers of blankets and let the soft cradle of sleep begin take them. 

They both wished they had done this much, much sooner, but there's a reason things happen when they do. Still, they were grateful it happened at all.

As if reading her thoughts about how Bill would be leaving shortly after school to travel the world a bit, he kissed the top of her head. "Come with me this summer," he suggested before he fully fell asleep. 

It didn't matter what this moment meant for them or what it would. She didn't want to overthink it or his request. "Yes," she said almost immediately. She just wanted Bill. She just wanted her best friend. Now, tomorrow, next week. However and whenever he would give himself, she wanted it. 

Her mind pulsed at the air of excitement between them.

And she couldn't wait to fuck him all over the world.  
  



	8. Groundhog's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katherine spent all seven years at Hogwarts and then some loving Fred Weasley. He loved her back with a fiery passion, but the loss of his twin brother one fateful night drives Fred into temporary madness. He makes an impulsive decision he cannot rectify. Is it by a benign twist or cruel fate that lands Katherine stuck in the same day over and over when she reunites with him until she can figure out how to break the loop?
> 
> This is actually based on a dream I had about Fred, hence why I inserted myself into the story. I can't believe Fred would ever betray me, but it's cool. I know he can't resist this fatty. The timeline is a little fucky, I know. The battle happens in our seventh year, which I know would be Harry's fifth year. Just indulge me. The timeline doesn't matter too much to the plot.

Hours and hours passed with roaring anarchy as the battle of Hogwarts waged. I became numb to all the noise, the explosions, the screams and cries.

Especially when I found myself stuck in the side with a small dagger.

It all happened so fast. One minute I was fighting along side Fred Weasley, the love of my life. We were cracking jokes as we effortlessly blew down Death Eaters one by one. It was obvious that we were constantly one step ahead of everyone, so one devious dark wizard found a way to take matters into his own hand, quite literally.

In one small, singular moment of vulnerability, the Death Eater snuck up one me, unsuspecting.

I wish I had noticed the horrified look of surprise on Fred's face when he turned to face at me, but it was too late.

As I felt the sharp sting of the cold blade piercing my skin, the smile on my face faded, and I wondered to myself, "Is this it"? Little did I know, I would actually be asking myself that question more than once, and that second time would hold more weight than me asking if my life was slipping away.

Because Fred Weasley was my life.

I wasn't sure what spell Fred cast to get my attacker off me, but I know he reacted faster than I had ever seen those quick hands react. Soon, I was collapsing into his arms as everything from the world faded into darkness.

I slowly blinked and tried to sit up, but it pained me too much.

I clutched my side and winced out from the pressure, and Fred was at my side instantly.

"Hey, love, hey. It's okay. Just relax," he whispered.

I looked around and saw he brought me to the Great Hall. The blood on my shirt was now dried, the wound closed on the outside but still hurting on the inside.

I brought up one hand to his face. Soot and dirt covered most of it, and somehow, he was still the most beautiful person in the world to me. I smiled fondly thinking of how much I loved him. How grateful I was that I made it. That he did as well.

Grateful that we could move on from this horrific war and start our life together.

_"Forever?" he asked._

_"If you'll indulge me," I giggled._

_"With the way the wizarding world looks right now, forever might only be a few more months," he joked grimly._

_"I'll take whatever forever you give me, Fred Weasley."_

_"I solemnly swear that I will give you the longest forever I can," he smiled._

I wish I had repeated those words back to him. I wished I looked through his pained gaze and forced him to remember the divine promise he made to me.

We didn't get to move on. At least not right away. 

As I watched Percy and Ron carry a large body into the Great Hall, I also watched the life disappear from my lover's eyes.

Fred jolted up from my side immediately, and his face turned as tear streaked as Ron and Percy's were. They placed George's motionless body on the ground, and I almost made a joke about George looking right awful. Until I realized he was actually dead, not just being dramatic like he always was.

Grief struck the air as all the Weasley's clung tight to each other while facing the reality of George's death. Fred though, looked like he died himself.

I couldn't blame him. 

George was his soulmate. They were two halves of a whole.

Fred uttered something to his family, but I was too far away to make it out. I desperately tried to stand to comfort him, but the pain shuddered through my side rendering me unable to.

His family gave him looks of confusion and pleads, and I feared the worst.

Fred placed his wand at his temple, and Ron tackled his brother to the ground but just a fraction too late.

The pale green light shot from Fred's wand, and when Ron helped his brother up, Fred's face wasn't his face anymore. It held no memories of who he once was, who he once loved.

"No!" I cried out. I scrambled up from my cot and pushed through all the pain. As I started to run over to Fred, I fell onto the ground as I grew dizzy once more. I couldn't push through it after all.

I couldn't make it to him.

I had to find out later through Ginny.

My dearest darling was gone.

"Is this it?" I asked myself.

_One year later..._

I walked into a muggle laundromat on a bleak and grey London evening. My personal washer and dryer unit and home were broken, and I found it difficult to focus my attention to produce magic.

Probably why they moved me from detective work in the auror office on to cold cases.

Can't have a half functioning witch on the front lines of desperation and action.

The laundromat was mostly empty. Off in the far left corner was a middle aged man reading the newspaper in front of his spinning dryer.

And then...there was...Fred?

Off to the right, I watched a tall, brooding, muscular man bend down and grab the remnants of clothes at the bottom of his laundry basket to shove them into the washer.

I stood in the doorway just gobsmacked.

I knew Fred erased all his memories of any and everything magical. He moved into a muggle apartment in London, but I thought it was on the west side of the city. Why he was on this side of the city was unbeknownst to me, but I wondered if this was meant to happen.

All the washers were on his side, so I had to go near him anyway.

I could have just turned around and went to a different location.

Seeing him reduced me to shambles.

There was still no etching of _my_ Fred on his face.

I shakily walked near him and started to load my clothes into the washer. His head perked up for just a moment as he greeted me with a kind smile, but nothing more than that. When I finally got the washer going, I turned to him.

"Fred?" I asked weakly.

His brows furrowed in concentration as if he was trying to place me. "Sorry, do I know you?"

As my chest shattered, I disguised it with a fake smile. "Sorry, I guess you just look like someone I knew."

"Maybe you're one of Audrey's friends?" he asked curiously. "I feel like I might have seen you before..."

My eyes flickered back up to meet his gaze. His eyes wandered up and down my body, taking in every detail as he strained to remember something that I knew he never would. 

"I don't know any Audrey," I said wanly. 

As if on cue, a tall, dark blonde woman wearing immaculate red lipstick came through the front door with heel clicking strides. When I twisted around to look at her, I crumpled inside. I _did_ know an Audrey. 

Audrey Palatino. She went to Hogwarts with us and was two years below Fred and I.

I suddenly wanted to take a page out of Fred's book as she slinked her arm around his waist and leaned in for a kiss. She gave me a small, knowing smile stock full of ego and arrogance. "Baby, who's this?" she asked with an air of ditz. 

I watched her dote on him, and him on her. He looked at her like he used to look at me. Like I was the most dazzling woman in the room.

And yet...

It felt like there was something missing from his gaze. And when his eyes darted back to me, it felt like maybe it was there for just a moment.

Or maybe I was just wishful thinking.

"I'm not sure..." he laughed nervously. 

"Sorry, I'm Katherine," I said firmly. "Or Kat," I said slowly, looking only at him, hoping the nickname would stir something in him, but he was unreadable. "I just-I uh thought Fred here looked familiar. Like someone I once knew," I explained to Audrey.

But I didn't need to.

She knew I knew him.

She had pined after Fred for years, even though he and I were together since practically our first week of Hogwarts. Audrey was obsessed. I caught her multiple times spreading rumors about me amongst her friends (all of which Fred squashed with no hesitation in his intimidating demeanor), and I even caught her several times trying to slip him a love potion in one way or another.

She almost got him once too, surprisingly.

She slipped the potion in a batch of chocolates. I was surprised that he of all people, co-creator of unsuspecting goodies in the form of skiving snack boxes had so easily accepted a box of chocolates with no question.

As he started to take a bite, I knocked it out of his hand and asked where he got them from. He said the note was from a "secret admirer", but he didn't care. Free sweets were free sweets. I recognized the beautiful, cursive scrawl immediately.

Fred was fuming. He made a big spectacle in the common room that evening about how much he loved me and wanted to marry me one day. Of course he made sure Audrey was there to witness it.

"I'm sure we'd remember someone like you," smiled Audrey, still feigning her sweet disposition. When Fred turned his attention away, she muttered so only you could hear. "Or not. Some people are just...forgettable."

"Say something, sweetheart?" smiled Fred.

I almost responded, and it was noticeable at the immediate opening of my mouth. Fred's mouth quirked upward in an awkward smile as he looked back to Audrey.

"Nothing, darling. Just saying how much I love you."

\-----------------

I bolted out of my bed the next morning and began my daily routine. I stopped when I noticed that my full laundry hamper was still sitting next to the toilet.

I went to the laundromat yesterday. All my clothes were washed and put away.

"Maybe it was a dream?" I tried to ask myself.

I knew my washer and dyer were currently broken, awaiting repair, and I remembered feeling too drained to produce any magic. I picked up the hamper and readied myself to go to the muggle laundromat.

The laundromat was mostly empty. Off in the far left corner was a middle aged man reading the newspaper in front of his spinning dryer.

And then...there was...Fred?

Off to the right, I watched a tall, brooding, muscular man bend down and grab the remnants of clothes at the bottom of his laundry basket to shove it into the washer.

I stood in the doorway just gobsmacked.

I definitely went through this yesterday.

I strode over to the area I occupied yesterday afternoon and did everything with a bit more confidence. 

"Fred?" I asked firmly.

His brows furrowed in concentration as if he was trying to place me. "Sorry, do I know you?"

Once again, my chest shattered, and I disguised it with a fake smile. "Sorry, I guess you just look like someone I knew."

"Maybe you're one of Audrey's friends?" he asked curiously. "I feel like I might have seen you before..."

My eyes flickered back up to meet his gaze, just as it had the day before. His eyes wandered up and down my body, taking in every detail as he strained to remember something that I knew he never would. It was exactly like yesterday. Right down to the dark blue button down shirt that was hardly buttoned half way, just subtly exposing the muscles of his chest.

"I don't know any Audrey," I said wanly. I didn't want to repeat this nightmare. I knew she was walking through the door in 3...2...1...

I was hyperaware of her as she slinked her arm around his waist and leaned in for a kiss. She gave me a small, knowing smile stock full of ego and arrogance. "Baby, who's this?" she asked with an air of ditz. 

"Sorry, I'm Katherine," I said firmly yet again. "Or Kat," I said slowly, looking only at him, hoping one more time that the nickname would stir something in him. "I just-I uh thought Fred here looked familiar. Like someone I once knew," I explained to Audrey.

But I didn't need to.

I knew how she would answer.

"I'm sure we'd remember someone like you," smiled Audrey, still feigning her sweet disposition. When Fred turned his attention away, she muttered so only you could hear. "Or not. Some people are just...forgettable."

"Say something, sweetheart?" smiled Fred.

This time, I kept my mouth completely closed and didn't move at all. And yet, Fred still looked my way as if looking for a reaction. 

"Nothing, darling. Just saying how much I love you."

That was the last I remembered from yesterday. I'm not sure why it had ended there or why I didn't remember anything else, but I was still here.

Fred walked away and stepped outside for a moment. This was new.

Audrey strode over to me and towered with her physical prowess. "Listen," she said with a cool smile. "I don't know what you think you're doing saying hi to him. He chose to forget that life. Forget about _pathetic_ little you. He came to me like I knew he always would. So, back the fuck off before you embarrass yourself." Her hands rested against her hips in a smug fashion, and I wasn't sure what else to say.

In the moment, it felt like she was right.

Fred chose to forget about me.

He didn't even think about it. I couldn't imagine the grief he was feeling in the moment one year ago, but he didn't even hesitate.

 _"I solemnly swear that I will give you the longest forever I can."_ His words echoed through my head. He broke that promise so easily, but I wasn't mad at him. George was his whole life. Still, the shattered promises of tomorrow would haunt me forever, and I wasn't sure how to move on.

I never blamed Fred for forgetting me. For leaving without one more goodbye, one more kiss, one more "I love you always". Because that's what love does to you. Their entire existence and pursuit of happiness means more than yours. If that's what he thought he needed, I couldn't even truly be mad.

I just wish he could have stayed a little longer.

\---------------

I bolted out of my bed the next morning and began my daily routine. I stopped when I noticed that my full laundry hamper was still sitting next to the toilet.

Wait...This again?

Why was I living through this again? Was I in hell? In some freak coma reliving a nightmare reality with no end in sight?

I didn't even try to question it further and instead headed right to the laundromat.

The laundromat was mostly empty. Off in the far left corner was a middle aged man reading the newspaper in front of his spinning dryer.

And then there was Fred.

Off to the right, I watched his tall, brooding, muscular body bend down and grab the remnants of clothes at the bottom of his laundry basket to shove it into the washer.

I stood in the doorway just gobsmacked. This couldn't truly be happening again, could it? What did it all mean, and how did I break out of it?

I strode over to the familiar area I occupied yesterday afternoon, and the day before that, and did everything with even more confidence.

"Fred?" I asked firmly.

His brows furrowed in concentration as if he was trying to place me. "Sorry, do I know you?"

Once again, my chest shattered, and I disguised it with a fake smile. "Sorry, I guess you just look like someone I knew." Why was I repeating the same things? Shouldn't I be trying something different?

"Maybe you're one of Audrey's friends?" he asked curiously. "I feel like I might have seen you before..."

I knew I only had a matter of moments before the bombshell that was Audrey came through the door, so I had to work fast.

"You have," I blurted. "Tell me you remember, please?"

Fred cocked his head and regret swam across his face. "You don't look like one of Audrey's friends."

"I'm not, Freddie," I whispered.

"Freddie?" he chuckled. "That's a new one."

More disappointment crushed me. It wasn't a new one. I used to call him that all the time. George too. "Never mind." I rolled my eyes in frustration. Not at him. It wasn't his fault. I just wondered what I did in this life to deserve this endless torture.

The familiar chime of the windpipes on the front door wafted into the room like an eerie chill.

I didn't turn to look at her.

"Baby, who's this?" she asked with an air of ditz. 

"No one," I blurted. "Absolutely no one."

Audrey smirked with a hint of triumph. I yanked the door of my washer open and took the half soaked clothes out and back into my hamper. I could feel Fred's puzzled look peering through me. I knew it all too well. 

But I couldn't look at him.

So I left.

And no matter how many times I relived that day, going to different laundromats or not going at all, I still ran into Fred in one way or another.

Some days I just stayed in bed and avoided it all together, but I couldn't escape this same day. Every morning when I woke, I saw the same wretched date.

Was I stuck in this void forever?

23 days passed, and I had enough.

I went to the laundromat empty handed.

The laundromat was mostly empty. Off in the far left corner was a middle aged man reading the newspaper in front of his spinning dryer.

And then there was Fred.

Off to the right, I watched his tall, brooding, muscular body bend down and grab the remnants of clothes at the bottom of his laundry basket to shove it into the washer.

This time, of course, like most other times, I wasn't shocked. 

Just determined. I locked the door behind me so that Audrey couldn't come in.

I marched right over to him and called his name. He shot me the same furrowed look as always, though this time his opening statement a bit different. "Bit weird to come to a laundromat with no laundry," he chuckled. "Do I know you?"

"I'll take whatever forever you give me, Fred Weasley," I uttered to him. "Tell me you remember. It was exactly three weeks before the battle. Three weeks before we were going to leave school forever. It was raining. I was really sad to be leaving school. We watched the rain drip down the window pane. We picked rain drops and pretended they were racing. It made me laugh like I hadn't in days." At this point, I couldn't stop the tears from free flowing down my face as my mind hurtled downwards in free fall. 

"I said that I would love you forever. And you said, 'Forever?'. To which I responded, 'If you'll indulge me'. Then you promised me forever, Fred. You promised me forever," I said as my voice cracked. 

Fred's eyes searched mine for any trace of memory, but it was clear he had none. I closed the gap between us carefully, and soon, I heard the rattle of the door as Audrey shook and banged on it. Fred was tempted to go let her in, but I caught his wrist.

I pulled out a small vial with a golden orange liquid inside.

"I know I'm a stranger, but I believe in you. I believe in us. In our love. Drink this. It's a shot in the dark. I know it won't replace your memories permanently, but I think it will jog them just enough."

Fred looked at me as if never knew anything in his life. As if he needed a guiding light.

I tuned out Audrey screeching from the sidewalk something about me being a bitch snake or how I wouldn't take Fred from her again. 

Fred was clearly conflicted, but he took the vial anyway and downed it.

He just blinked for several moments, his expression always changing. I wasn't sure what he was feeling or experiencing, but later I found he was seeing flashes of us. Late nights by the common room fire as I fell asleep on his chest. All the sunset, lakeside picnics where we tried to see who could shove the most grapes in their mouth (he always won). The way I played with his hair every single night to lull him to sleep.

"K-Kat?" he asked weakly.

"Freddie," I smiled faintly. 

"I-What's going on?"

It broke me to try and tell him what happened. The battle, George's death, his hasty decision in a moment of complete heartbreak. I tried to explain as sanely as I could how I was reliving this day over and over, and I was convinced I needed to bring him back to me to break out of it. 

I was surprised he could make out anything I said in my blubbering, sobbing mess. He just pulled me into him and held me, Audrey still throwing a temper tantrum outside.

"What do I do now?" he asked feebly.

"There's no counter charm," I reminded him ruefully.

"But this potion?" 

"It only enhances your memory for a few hours. Then, you'll forget again."

Fred scanned the ground in thought and raked his fingers through his hair. "I'm-I'm so sorry I did this to you."

"I'll love you forever," I whispered.

"Forever?" he grinned.

"If you'll indulge me," I recalled back with a matching smile.

"With the way the way things look right now, forever will only be a few hours," he joked grimly.

"I'll take whatever forever you give me, Fred Weasley."

"I solemnly swear that I will give you the longest forever I can." Fred stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. They were cold. Normally they were so warm, but it was him. Some ghost of him was in there trying to burst out.

"Let's go home. See mum and dad. They have to have a solution," offered Fred.

The banging on the front door grew more rampant, and Audrey was growing a crowd around her. "Fuck, really? Her? I got with her?"

"I don't think she did it by herself..." I assumed.

I led Fred away from that dingy laundromat. The one with the dim, flickering lights that would haunt me forever. When we found a secluded alley, I apparated us to the burrow.

Needless to say that his entire family was shocked not only to see Fred but me alongside him. I explained to them the weird anomaly of my life the past endless month and everything up until a few minutes ago.

Molly hugged her son tightly. It was clear that the year without both of her boys took a toll on her. Her crows feet had deepened, and her once bright eyes now sagged with darkness underneath.

Fred muttered an shameful apology to his family. They had always meant everything to him, and even if George meant more than that, he knew it wasn't fair.

Like you, everyone forgave him easily. Happy he was trying to rectify it now.

For now, there were no permanent solutions. Arthur suggested we just keep brewing memory potions for Fred to take a few times a day, and I could fill in the rest of the blanks whenever he needed.

Eventually, things fell back as normal as they could.

A few months later, Fred and I lounged on the sofa of our new flat, and he turned to look at me in the middle of our new favorite show. "You really love me, huh?" he asked.

"Don't ask silly questions," I teased while ruffling his hair.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbled. "I can't believe I was so selfish. To so many people."

"Fred, darling, look at me. I love you. End of story. There's nothing I wouldn't endure for you. Nothing I wouldn't face if it meant I was by your side. Just promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Stay."

"Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter probably until this weekend! Hope you all enjoyed the hell out of the insane, heartbreaking dream I had about my favorite boy.


	9. To the Ends of the Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the death of Fred Weasley, his brother George disappears without a trace. Ginny enlists the help of her husband's auror skills and knowledge to track him down. The only piece of evidence she has is a singular piece of paper tucked in an old book that says , "To the ends of the earth".
> 
> I highly, highly recommend at some point before, during, or after that you listen to Orange Sky, the Kat Cunning version.
> 
> I just...I wanna apologize. I love you all.
> 
> *Craic is Irish for like "What's up? What's going on? What's new?" etc.

As Ginny Weasley sat in the cushy office of her husband Harry Potter, she folded her hands in her lap rather nervously. She had been in this room many times before, and yet it felt smaller than normal. 

Suffocating.

She could stride from the door to his desk in at least 10 steps, and off to the left was enough office space for a small couch and a coffee table. 

Yet it was still small in that moment.

She peered at the gentle snowfall out the tall window panes behind Harry's desk as he rubbed his forehead in thought.

"I'm not sure this is something I can help with, Ginny," he said ruefully. "I wish I could help, I really do."

"You keep saying that he's fine, but I know my brother. You don't." Her harsh words stung like a cheek slap. Harry was just as much a part of the Weasley family as she was. It never mattered that he wasn't born into it. 

As she watched Harry recoil in his seat, she reworded her thoughts carefully. "Something's wrong. I know it," she said more coolly.

Harry didn't speak for a few moments as he considered what she said.

Ginny huffed exasperatedly. "Harry," she groaned. "You take the most miniscule of clues and turn it into another clue and then another until you've found the person you're looking for. You overturn things others wouldn't bother to look at. I think you're the only person who can help me." 

She needed a way to cinch the deal. She needed him. "I will do this alone, but I want you by my side."

Harry respected her candor. He knew she never _really_ needed him in her life. She could always take care of herself. She was strong, intelligent, resoundingly resourceful. So, it made him smile every time she admitted her desire for him in whatever way it came.

Harry stood from his black leather seat to stand at the windows of his office. He looked down at the bustling muggle streets below, filled to the brim with life. Christmas lights looped across buildings in glittering whites and twinkles of blues. Street lights were adorned decorations of snowflakes and snowmen. Everyone hugged their winter gear a little closer to them as the night wind crept in stealthily.

He couldn't help but think of how he wished he was down there with Ginny, half drunk and smiling as they stumbled hand-in-hand around looking at Christmas lights.

Ginny always loved Christmas. It was always filled with happy memories of her entire family smiling and laughing. After Fred's death, the joy had been sucked out of the world and out of the Weasley family, especially Ginny and George.

His resolve crumbled quickly, as it always did when it came to her.

He sighed softly to himself before returning to his desk. He rounded to the other side where Ginny was, turning his back to her only for a moment as he let his fingers graze the cover of the book she brought.

It was a copy of Shakespeare's _The Tempest_. 

Harry leaned against his desk, facing Ginny again as he opened the book. In the very front of the pages was a small scrap of parchment, clearly erratically torn from something. The note had the small scrawling of George's handwriting. 

Harry remembered it quite well from when he signed up for DA.

 _"To the ends of the earth,"_ was all that it said. 

Harry couldn't make anything out of it. As he fiddled with the paper between his fingers, he finally looked at Ginny. "Any idea what this means?" 

"None," she whispered.

As Harry flipped through the pages, he noticed occasional small writings in the margins next to underlined or circled bits of dialogue. Before he even gave them a glance and tried to dissect them, he offered the book back to her. "You should go through these margins and parse out their meaning. Like you said, you know him better."

There was a little trace of injury in his voice, but he did his best to cover it. Ginny nodded curtly and held the book in her hands. 

The first note she looked over was a line with a star next to it. " _What's past is prologue,_ " read the line of manuscript. In the space next to it, George had written something small. _"New beginnings?"_

"There's something here," said Ginny. "But I'm not sure what to make it." Ginny read the lines out loud and mulled it over. "Did he leave to start over? I just-I can't believe he would leave without saying _anything_ to _anyone_."

"Maybe..." thought Harry carefully. "Maybe it wasn't about leaving. Maybe he found comfort in the line? Fred dies, George struggles to move on. You said one time that he looked stuck in place. Like he might not ever move forward. Maybe he found a peace in it that told him he needed to move on. That he was allowed to."

"Maybe," whispered Ginny. It was still an enigma, but they were starting to piece something together, she just knew it. " _Hell is empty, all the devils are here,"_ she said, reading the next circled bit of dialogue.

"Did he say anything about that one?" asked Harry.

"No, but I think that's a bit obvious, don't you think?"

Harry nodded in agreement. Life on earth probably felt like hell to George without his brother by his side.

 _"I would not wish any companion in the world but you,"_ she carried on. No footnote with this either. Again, it seemed quite distinct how he felt about that line. _"Let us not burthen our remembrance with a heaviness that is gone,"_ she continued.

"Anything with that one?"

"Yes, actually. It says, ' _How do I free this weight from my back even when I know I should?'._ " 

Harry thought again for a moment, trying to decipher the old English text before tackling George's old mind. "George felt like he couldn't move on," he answered. "The text means that we shouldn't burden ourselves with problems of the past."

"He couldn't do that..." added Ginny woefully.

Harry's eyes searched hers, but they hadn't torn away from the book. This was the last and most recent piece of George she currently had. Losing one brother was more than enough, and now she had practically lost another.

No.

Harry wouldn't allow that. He would find George.

Ginny flipped through more pages, only finding one more entry next to a crazily circled passage. _"And then, in dreaming, the clouds methought would open and show riches, ready to drop upon me that when I waked, I cried to dream again..."_ she read softly.

She didn't even need to read the messily penned message next to it that said _"agony"_. She knew that he dreamed of Fred. Dreamed of the life they shared together and of a life they hoped for each other. Waking to the nightmare that he was no longer here caused him to want to go back to sleep tenfold.

Ginny slammed the book shut and let the tears roll down her face. She kept wiping them away every few seconds, but more replaced them almost immediately. 

She knew he was suffering. She knew that his entire world had shattered.

But hers had too. Twice now, in fact.

But she wished for nothing more in that moment that she could hold her brother again. Whisper to him that he would be okay. _"George,"_ she prayed silently to herself. _"You are not alone. You are not alone. You are not alone. Where are you?"_

Ginny pinched her eyes shut, just wanting to dissolve from this moment. She somehow had more answers but also more questions. 

Harry wasn't sure what to do. He longed to reach out to her and comfort her, but he knew how she was in times like this. She was inconsolable and didn't want to feel weak. So, he gave her a moment to compose herself.

"Do you know at all who he last spoke to? Anyone in your family? Angelina or Lee? Maybe Dean or Seamus?" he asked.

"He and I talked on the phone a few weeks prior. Nothing special. Just checking in. He hadn't spoken to mum or dad in weeks. Said he felt too bloody guilty. Why, I don't know. Maybe he thought they'd see him and only see Fred." She strummed her fingers on the hard wooden arm of the chair as she tried to recall. "He and Lee fell off a few months after Fred's funeral. I-I just don't know."

"So, his entire apartment was packed away, and he sold everything. The only thing he left behind was this book which he had mailed to you?"

"Yes."

"Have you been by their shop?" asked Harry inquisitively. 

"I-No, actually. Hadn't thought about it."

"Grab your coat."

Harry apparated them to the store front of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Ginny hadn't been here in years. It was hard to ever step back in the exuberant shop, watching customers laugh as they tested the numerous products, breathing life into the store. 

Because there was no life in it anymore.

Not without Fred.

Perhaps that how George felt too, and he couldn't take it anymore.

Ginny knew George handed over management reigns to one of his best employees, Amara. Ginny was grateful to see her warm smile weaving through the crowd to greet her. Her short, brown bob was particularly immaculate today, and she looked unflushed as she craftily managed the store like it was as easy as breathing. 

Amara hugged Ginny tightly. "It's so good to see you," she said.

Ginny returned a wry smile. "We're here to check out the office."

"Of course! I haven't touched it at all since...Well, um, my office is next door in the old inventory room," explained Amara. "Take as long as you need." 

Ginny and Harry made their way into Fred and George's old office, and it was exactly how Ginny remembered it. Papers littered about on both desks, a signed quidditch autograph from herself in the middle of one wall, and differing calendars on both sides of the room. Fred with a calendar of different inspirational quotes, and George with one from Ron. It was a joke gift. The calendar consisted of shots of the Chudley Cannons. Ginny couldn't help but smile at the endearing memory.

_"Bloody hell, Ron. Really? You know they're about the worst quidditch team in all the world. Bloody worse than quodpot players," laughed George._

_Ron hid his embarrassment quite well, actually. "Yeah, well it's just a joke gift," he laughed nervously. There was no need to lie. Everyone knew Ron had an affinity towards the ridiculously helpless quidditch team._

Harry searched on Fred's side of the room while Ginny looked on George's. It was unlikely there would be anything amongst Fred's belongings, but it was still worth a comb over. As an auror, you never left any stone unturned, and Ginny knew this philosophy. 

They scoured through the entire office for almost 30 minutes and turned up nothing. Ginny sat on the plush carpeted floor and laid on her back, huffing in frustration.

Harry awkwardly laid next to her, and they both stared at the ceiling. "We'll find something," he said reassuringly.

Harry just laid there with her in silence, once again allowing her to recuperate her strength to keep going. A soft rapt at the door caused them to sit up, and Amara let herself in. "Any luck?" she asked.

Harry and Ginny both shook their heads. "Amara," started Harry. "The day he put you in charge, did he say anything else? Anything about where he was going or about seeing anyone? Doing anything at all?"

"He said he was going to see Angelina that afternoon, but I thought you two already knew that," she answered.

"No! Fuck," muttered Ginny. "How did I not know this?"

Harry placed a loving hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, honey. Things slip through the cracks. Let's go see Angelina."

"It's getting late," grumbled Ginny. "We shouldn't disturb her right now."

Harry checked his watch. It was half past 10. Ginny was right; it would be too intrusive to make a drop in visit at this hour. Harry helped his wife off the ground and felt himself grow a little weaker, a little less confident than he had been earlier in the day. 

It broke him to watch the woman he loved look like this. So defeated. 

He remembered all the times he watched her face perilous danger. How her hand never shook as she held her wand steady, some powerful spell at the tip of her tongue. How she was always somehow at her strongest when her back was up against the wall. But now she was just weak. It was like unlike any way he had ever seen her.

But just as quickly as he felt himself fading, he picked himself back up on the inside. He needed to be strong for her. For George.

They woke early the next day and rang Angelina at her home. She answered in just three rings.

"Hello?" answered Angelina.

"Angelina, hello, hi," greeted Harry. 

"Harry? Is that you?" she asked.

"Yes. I-Ginny and I need to speak with you. Can you meet today?"

"Yes. I can floo to the Ministry if that makes it easier? I have an appointment there around one anyway," she suggested.

"Brilliant. Noon okay?"

"Perfect. See you then."

The two hung up and waited for noon to arrive, and it seemed the hours until then stretched on forever.

Harry had to force Ginny to not skip out on her quidditch practice for the third time that week. She was a bloody amazing player, but no one was good enough to be above getting kicked off the team. Ginny reluctantly agreed and took a portkey to Wales for practice.

When Angelina finally showed up in Harry's office, she marched in with the air of confidence she always had. It didn't seem much had changed for her.

Or at least, she didn't show it. She was always fond of the twins, always quite close friends with both of them, but she never liked to show weakness.

That was instilled in her early on from her quidditch days. Oliver always insisted on making snarky comments about men being the better players, even if she could fly circles around him. She had to work twice as hard to prove she belonged.

"It's good to see you," she said kindly.

"You too. How are you?" asked Harry.

"Let's not do all the pleasantries," she offered a bit bitterly. "I know you probably want to ask me about George, so let's get it over with."

Harry nodded. "I heard you met him the day he disappeared. Can you tell me what happened or what he said?"

"We never met. We were supposed to, but he didn't show. He just called me and left a cryptic voice message."

"He never came?" asked Harry, surprised. George always followed through with his word. He started to worry something sinister happened.

Angelina shook her head and held Harry's gaze. "I still have the message. I can forward it to you."

"Yes, please. Thank you for stopping by Angelina."

Angelina patched the message to Harry's office phone before she left.

Harry pressed play, unsure of what to expect.

_"Angelina, darling, I'm sorry, but I can't come. I know you wanted to discuss...the other night, but I can't. You mean everything to me, but not in that way, and anyway, I have to go. I have to see where it ends."_

The line clicked at the end of the message, and Harry was left more perplexed than before.

He played the message again.

And again.

And again.

And again at least a dozen more times. His words still never making any more sense. When Ginny finally came back from practice, she had a small smile on her face. It was the first one Harry had seen in weeks since George's disappearance.

Her hair was tied in a low pony, her goggles sitting on top of her head. Her face was flushed from the exhaustion, but she looked like she had a good distraction from it.

"Good practice?" he asked.

"Wonderful. Gwen had us practicing new chaser formations. I think we can secure a nice victory at our next match with some of them," she smiled, but it wasn't for long. She noticed the forlorn features of Harry's face. "What did meeting with Angelina turn up?" she inquired.

She sat down across from him, not knowing if she was ready for the answer.

Harry explained that he never met Angelina but had called her. He brought the message up again for Ginny to hear.

"See where it ends?" she asked. Her brows furrowed together in concentration as she tried to piece together what it could mean. Harry watched her chew on the inside of her cheek as she pondered the possibilities closely.

Hogwarts? Where Fred died? No, he'd never. It'd be too painful, and besides, it's not like he could just stroll up to the castle.

"Could he be talking about the play?" asked Harry, trying to be helpful in some way, but he was as stuck as she was.

"I really doubt my brother pawned off his entire life to go mosey down to The Globe Theatre a few blocks away," she spat hotly. She didn't mean to snap at Harry. He was trying his best.

"You're right. That's rubbish," he breathed. "But I think the play might still hold something. Let's read the end." Harry pulled the book out from one of his desk drawers and opened it to the very end.

Harry noticed there was an epilogue and wasn't sure if he should be looking there or at the normal end of the script. He read the lengthy epilogue out to Ginny first, but she just frowned. 

"No, nothing in there makes sense," she said.

Harry agreed and read a few lines from the end of the play.

_Alonso: I long to hear the story of your life, which must take the ear strangely._

_Prospero: I'll deliver it all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, and sail so expeditious, that shall catch your royal fleet far off._

Ginny churned the words in her mind over and over. "Ireland!" she screeched, jumping out of her chair.

"Ireland?" repeated Harry strangely.

"Okay, okay," she breathed steadying herself. "You might think this will sound crazy, but we've connected more with far less."

"Go on."

"The line, 'which must take the ear strangely,' just means that it's a strange tale to hear," she explained. "Fred used to tease George about his blown off ear. Said it made him look strange. He _always_ used the word strange. And then they'd sit for hours conjuring up wild stories they would tell girls about how he lost it."

"So, you think the lines could be referring to those moments with Fred?"

"Yes!"

"Ooookaay," he muttered. "Not seeing how that connects to Ireland though."

"I'm getting there." Ginny began to pace back and forth in the tiny aisle between her chair and Harry's desk. Her emerald green and gold streaked quidditch robes billowed behind her with each stride. "They got drunk with Seamus and Dean one night at The Leaky Caludron. I had to come pick them up, and they couldn't stop laughing at this one version they created." 

Ginny puffed her chest and did her best, dramatic, Irish interpretation of Seamus. It was pretty bang on. _"Just tell the lasses I blew it up from an experimental potion. It's the most likely scenario, ain't it? 'Oi, what's the craic*?'_ ' _Oh, nothing, just got my bloody ear blown off by that dickhead Seamus_ '."

"Okay..." whispered Harry. "I'm still not seeing the dots connect."

"Fred and George loved that version. They talked about it a lot. Any time they tried to create new ideas, they just circled the conversation back to Seamus's story."

Ginny was staring at Harry with her eyes bulged in expectation. She didn't want to fill in every blank for him, but it seemed she'd have to. Sometimes she wondered how he became an auror, but she meant that affectionately. 

Harry mirrored her exasperated expression, unable to draw any conclusions. "He's in Ireland with Seamus?" he asked slowly, his pitch raising with each word.

"Not quite. Coumeenole beach. It's off the Dingle peninsula."

"How can you be so sure?"

Ginny pressed her hands into his desk and leaned over it. She looked impressed with herself, and with good reason. She finally pieced it together. "We went there on a family trip the summer after Umbridge. Mum thought we deserved a nice break from everything. We sat on that beach for hours. It's really secluded. Mainly only locals know of it. The sun started to set, and I sat between Fred and George, watching the colors change on the horizon." She smiled as she recalled the memory. "Fred spoke first. _'It's beautiful out there. Mysterious though. Like the world has no end'._ "

Harry jumped out of his seat when he finally connected the fragments. _"I have to see where it ends,"_ he repeated.

Ginny smiled widely at her adoring husband, thankful he agreed to help her with this. She couldn't face this alone. Face the uncertainty of going to find George or the overwhelming pride she felt now that she had put it all together.

But her smile quickly vanished.

"What is it, Gin?" he asked.

"What if he doesn't want to be found?" she asked faintly.

"He left you this," said Harry while holding up _The Tempest._ "He wanted you to find him. So, let's go find him."

As daylight was rapidly leaving the world, Harry and Ginny left to Ireland, to Dingle, to Coumeenole. As they approached the small footpath near the road that led down in a winding fashion to the hidden beach, Ginny was struck with a sense of anxiety. There were only a small number of people on the beach, but she couldn't make out any features from where they were.

And he might not even be here. 

It had been weeks since he left.

Could he have moved on? 

Ginny practically raced down the sandy path and across the shore, and Harry awkwardly shuffled behind her. They kept their eyes peeled for any sign of her brother, but there was none. 

There wasn't much beach to comb over, and defeated, Ginny sunk into the soft, cold sand. She twisted in place and looked at the jagged, black cliffs behind her, and then back around to the seemingly endless sea before her. The gorgeous teal waters rolled back and forth, and she became mesmerized with it's calm movements.

"It's just like I remember it," she whispered. She and Harry looked out at the horizon as streaks of peach danced alongside shades of purple and gold.

The restless winter winds drowned out any sound except for the deafening crash of the waves, so it barely registered with either of them when someone spoke.

"Ginny? Harry?"

Ginny whipped around and saw her brother. Without even thinking, she leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around him to ensure he was real. George held her back just as tightly, desperately trying to not let his tears consume him.

When she finally climbed down, she slapped George with all her fiery might.

George rubbed his cheek. It probably stung extra from the bitter cold. "Suppose I deserve that," he chuckled.

"How fucking dare you?" she spat. "I thought you fucking died."

"I basically have, haven't I?" he said hoarsely.

Ginny closed her eyes and let his words sink in. "You can't leave me. I barely cope without Fred. I _will not_ be able to cope without you either," she stated shakily.

He started to speak again, but she stopped him. "I can't imagine how you feel, George. I cannot. I know he was everything to you, but I need you. We all need you." She took his face in her small hands. "I will not let you do this alone."

George nodded slowly and plastered on a small smile, not wanting to talk about it more right now. Ginny pulled him down into the sand with her, and she clutched his arm tightly as if he might run away like a fugitive. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head. "Sorry for scaring you," he said regretfully.

Ginny just nodded, and the three of them continued watching the sunset.

"How'd you find me anyway?" he asked.

Ginny retold the whole story, and at the end, George let out a low whistle. "I knew there was a reason I never underestimated you."

"I never would have figured it out if you hadn't left me a crumb of clue," she giggled.

"I didn't intend on it being one, really. I just needed you to know I was okay," he breathed.

"Why here?" she asked.

George blew out a lengthy breath that ruptured into a nervous laugh. "A few days before the vacation, Fred found out my most terrible secret. I read romance novels." George cringed a little as if he expected Ginny to use it as ammunition against him, but for once, she didn't. 

She just listened with open ears and an open heart.

"The book I was reading was called _The Winter Rose._ Fred teased me mercilessly, but then he asked me to read out my favorite part. _'Meet me where the sky touches the sea. Meet me where the world begins',_ " he recited.

When Ginny still didn't respond, deep in thought, George continued. "We came out here, and I was shocked the whole family hadn't heard of my secret passion yet. We sat here with you, and he said,"

" _It's beautiful out there. Mysterious though. Like the world has no end_ ," finished Ginny. "I remember. He was making a statement about the line from your book," she assumed.

"Exactly. You know how we were. Nothing was ever sacred. Everything was ammunition against each other, but not this. He could just tell I wanted to hold this all to myself, no matter how inane or trivial it really was. He smiled at me after he said it, and I just couldn't stop thinking of how perfect of a brother he was."

"You came out here to feel a little more connected to him," guessed Ginny.

"Yes."

Silence emitted between them all as the world grew darker and darker. Soon, all the stars were out, and the breeze became almost bone chilling.

"George," whispered Ginny. "Please come home."

"Okay," he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to publish this until this weekend but it was already half written. If I gave you all a bittersweet Fred one, I had to do a bittersweet George one. I promise the next few won't be depressing hehe.


	10. Father of Dragons and the Slytherin Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE SHAWTY. I wasn't going to publish until this weekend when I got some things in order, but I really wanted to celebrate 10k reads on Chaos Ensues (on Wattpad)! I'm still crying about it btw.
> 
> Today's song rec is Like Real People Do by Hozier.
> 
> Charlie Weasley left the dragon sanctuary in Romania in search of a more peaceful life. Longing to be closer to his roots, his family, and a more domesticated life, Charlie moves into a magical neighborhood in the heart of London. He takes a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic. Draco Malfoy, desperate to move out of the manor, finds a home with the nurturing and carefree Charlie Weasley.
> 
> This one is LONG y'all. I just had a spurt of inspiration the other day. Longing lovers, a lot of build of tension. I thought these two would seem an unlikely but perfect pair. So, I wanted to put a lot into this one. This is probably the most ambitious chapter I've ever done. The longest one too of anything I've written across all three of my published stories. I hope you all enjoy!

\--------

_"What's it like?"_

_"How do you mean?"_

_"Falling in love..."_

_"It's like coming home."_

\--------

The last person Charlie Weasley expected to come by his cubicle was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Sure, they both worked in the Ministry of Magic, but for Draco, an auror, to come by his office unannounced was rather unexpected.

"Heard you have a spare room in your flat," said Draco plainly. He barely looked Charlie in the eyes as he leaned against the corner of the small cubicle.

"Who said that?" asked Charlie curiously.

Why was Draco even wondering?

"Granger. Ron told her, she told me."

"Why would she tell you that? And why are you asking me about it?"

Draco huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Granger and I are working the Silas case. I mentioned moving out of the manor."

Charlie looked up from his paper work and eyed Draco pointedly. He was dressed a little more casually today than normal. It was quite refreshing to look at, to see Draco a bit more relaxed, even if his posture was still a bit tense. 

Draco wore charcoal gray pants with black dress shoes. His suit jacket matched his pants, but he had on a dark red turtle neck underneath. All of it brought out the tiniest of blue flecks in his grey eyes. 

Charlie couldn't help but smile.

"Malfoy, you come from old money. Surely you're not asking for a _roommate_?" teased Charlie.

Draco rolled his eyes and started to turn away, not feeling in the mood for banter or being ridiculed. 

Charlie grabbed onto Draco's wrist ever so gently to stop him.

And he did stop.

Charlie was glad that pretty much everyone he shared an office with was out at lunch. Draco was glad for that too.

Charlie's thumb gently stroked the thin flesh where Draco's hand connected to his arm before letting go. "Sorry. Don't mean to be insensitive. I do have a spare room. It's technically Bingley's, but I can move him into my room."

Draco's eyes bulged when Charlie said this. "Bingley as in...?" 

Draco suspected the name might be from a certain muggle romance film, but he bit his tongue.

Charlie chuckled to himself. "Um, I have a bowtruckle I named Bingley. His little garden I've built for him is in there, but I can move it into my room."

Draco's brows shot up for half a second, and Charlie could see the ghost of a smile aching to twitch on his face. "You just casually have a bowtruckle?"

"You don't?" joked Charlie.

Draco pressed his lips together to stop himself from smiling, trying to maintain his somewhat icy attitude. "I'll bring my stuff around after work, yeah?" he called over his shoulder while walking away.

As the afternoon quickly came, Charlie went to Draco's office to give him the address and see if there was any way he could help.

Draco thanked him but declined.

By 8 PM, all of Draco's belongings were moved in.

He didn't have a lot, surprisingly, thought Charlie.

Charlie ordered them take out. Some Indian place around the corner.

They ate in silence, and as soon as Draco finished eating, he put on the tea kettle. Draco fixed his tea, thanked Charlie for the food, and retired to his room.

Several weeks passed and Charlie and Draco hardly saw each other at home. No matter what, Charlie almost always got off at 5 PM, but some cases had Draco working well past overtime, sometimes past midnight.

Charlie was a little disappointed by this. He never went to school with Draco, so all he had were the unkind memories from others and then their renounced opinions when they saw all the ways he softened and changed over the years. In fact, it was by Draco's hands that the department not only caught his own father but the last of the Death Eaters after the war.

No one ever suspected that the prejudiced, cold, Slytherin prince of Hogwarts would turn into a badass total softie.

At least that's how some of his coworkers would describe him. Hermione often raved about how kind he was to her all the time, always making sure she was safe if they ever went out in the field. Ron and Harry would always comment how Draco sometimes took them for drinks and would occasionally crack jokes as if he was never capable of it.

But Charlie didn't see this side.

At least not in those long weeks of scarcely passing by each other in the apartment or at work.

One night, Charlie sat a bit glumly at the kitchen table, lost in thoughts he never dared speak to anyone. Draco came in through the front in a flurry. He uttered some formal greeting to Charlie, a stack of files in his hand. Instead of coming over to eat dinner, he started right for his room. 

"Are you not hungry?" asked Charlie abruptly, eager to get some conversation out of his roommate.

"I ate."

Nothing more, just the closing of his bedroom door.

Charlie put on the kettle and fixed Draco a cup of tea. Charlie knocked gently on Draco's door and entered when he hear some small ushering for him to come in.

"Here," offered Charlie.

"What's this?"

"A bomb," smiled Charlie.

Draco rolled his eyes at the jest and returned to look at his paper work, but stretched his hand out for the mug. "You didn't have to do that," he mumbled.

"You drink tea every single night after your dinner," blurted Charlie. He scratched the back of his head shyly at his observation. Not wanting to embarrass himself further, he scrambled to recover, but failed to stop himself from spewing more out. "I just wanted to make sure you had your tea."

Charlie bit down on his lip for a brief moment, wishing nothing more than to be scorched by a Chinese Fireball or squashed into the earth by a Hungarian Horntail.

Draco's eyes flitted from his folder up to Charlie, who's freckles were now a shade darker from the blush on his cheeks.

"Thank you," said Draco coolly.

Charlie nodded curtly and was unsure what to say, so he left. When he closed the door, he leaned against it and sighed.

Charlie started to think about all the little things Draco did that he liked. The way he always held his mugs with his hand fully, never by the handle, no matter how hot it was. The way he wore reading glasses and how they looked when he pushed them on top of his head, brushing back his soft locks of platinum hair. The way he was quiet in most conversations but always absorbed what people said, remembering their words intently. The way he shoved his hands in his pockets whenever he walked. The way he walked. The way Draco always opened the door for Charlie if they were together. The way the dark blue veins of his pale arms always popped and he wanted to trail them across his body.

Charlie retired to his own room, unable to keep thinking about it.

Little did he know, that on the other side of the wall, Draco was thinking about Charlie too.

The way Charlie always had to make some dumb joke in a conversation. The way Draco wanted to laugh at it, even if the joke didn't land. The way how after a few ales, Charlie's eyes wandered and watched Draco's fingers keenly. The way it made Draco light up if they did dishes together and their fingers occasionally brushed, making him wonder what Charlie was always thinking when he was watching them. How Charlie always brought homemade baked goods to work every other Friday. The way his hair curled on his head perfectly at the start of the day and eventually drooped around his face as he ruffled it in pensive thought. The way Charlie picked up on the tea detail almost immediately and from then on always put the kettle on after dinner.

It was a Saturday night, so neither of them had work the next day.

Charlie couldn't sleep. His mind was too clouded.

He did what he did every time it got like this. He stepped out of his room through a sliding glass door onto his personal balcony. 

On the horizon were the glittering lights of a bustling London skyline.

It was funny.

The dragon sanctuary was never quiet. He liked that. But the noise in the London city was a far cry from the noise in Romania.

Charlie leaned against the cool metal railing, propping himself up by his elbows, head in his hands.

He almost didn't hear the sliding of the glass door from Draco's room as he stepped out onto his own balcony. Draco's husky voice is what rolled him back to his senses.

"Nice night," grunted Draco more as a statement than a question.

Charlie gazed up at the sky and smiled sadly. "Can't see any stars though."

At some point in the last several minutes, Draco had gone and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He tapped his finger against it in thought, his family ring clinking on the glass. "Do you like stars?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah," smiled Charlie. "Back in Romania, we were so secluded from any civilization or city. At night, especially the winter, you could see everything. Hundreds of stars, sometimes the Milky Way." Charlie's smile faltered a little, and even though there was a large gap between them, Draco could see it.

"Why'd you leave something you love?"

"What?"

"Why'd you leave Romania? It's clear your heart's still there."

Charlie felt a sharp twinge in his chest. It felt like someone was squeezing his heart. "That's one way of putting it."

Charlie didn't offer more to his vague answer than that, and for some time, Draco left it.

Charlie huffed and turned towards Draco. He leaned against the railing on the left side now, and Draco came and did the same on his side. They were separated by just a few feet, but Charlie feared if he spoke that he might create a chasm between them.

He didn't expect Draco to understand or care.

But Draco held his gaze as he sensed that Charlie was struggling. He remained wordless until Charlie was ready. 

"The war...It changed so much. So many people," he started. Charlie recoiled a bit when he saw Draco tense. "I watched so many people die, and I was so thankful no one in my family was hurt. Made me want to come back home and be closer to them. And..."

"And?" asked Draco softly.

"There was someone. Amelia. She was from America. Very sweet girl, love her to bits. One day I just woke up though and realized..." Charlie grappled with actually saying it out loud.

"Realized?" 

Charlie inhaled sharply and finally looked Draco in the eyes. "She uh, just wasn't my type."

A small tug of Draco's lips moved upward. "What's your type?"

"Blonde and unruly," laughed Charlie nervously. "But also someone put together in a way. Someone who exists in all the shades of gray. Someone who...I don't know. Carved their own way against what everyone else said to do."

"Someone like you?" chuckled Draco. "Do you have a spare tire pump? I don't think your ego is inflated enough."

"Wanker."

Old Draco might have blown up about the name. Pulled out his wand or spat out some rash retort, but Draco just continued to smile at the friendly banter.

It was something he never really experienced before, but he liked it.

Draco returned back to the other railing to peer out into the city, and Charlie did the same. 

They both stood on their respective balconies with their respective thoughts for some time before anyone spoke.

"What's it like?" asked Draco slowly.

"How do you mean?"

"Falling in love..."

"It's like coming home," answered Charlie without even thinking about it.

Draco didn't respond, and Charlie grew curious. "Have you...never?"

Charlie saw Draco's arms tense just enough against the railing that the fabric of his sleeves pushed up. The tiniest detail of his Death Eater tattoo poked out, and Charlie regretted asking anything.

Draco swallowed hard, mumbled a goodnight, and headed back inside, leaving Charlie alone.

Always alone.

\--------

The apartment went back to it's usual silence for a few more weeks, the two men hardly ever seeing each other.

Except at night.

Every night, Charlie went out onto his balcony, and eventually Draco did too.

They stood several feet away but worlds apart.

Some nights neither of them said a word. They just watched cars in the distance come and go and stared up at the smog filled sky in wistful longing.

Charlie wished he could be like that sometimes. Just a passing blur through other people's lives. Back at Hogwarts, he was the quidditch captain, seeker, had top marks. Everyone loved him. He was quite popular back in Romania too. People found him agreeable and easy to talk to. He came from a big family with lots of love to give.

But he didn't want that all the time.

Sometimes he just wanted be a small inkling of a dot. Meaningless to most, but special to one person somewhere out there.

He did miss the noise of the sanctuary, but truthfully, he just wanted quiet.

Love.

Understanding.

"Fancy a walk?" asked Draco after some time.

Charlie agreed, and soon the two of them ambled down the desolate streets. It was a work day tomorrow, so they should have been in bed like all the other Londoners, but it was nice to spend some time together outside of work and home.

No words were spoken, but none were needed.

Draco and Charlie rounded a corner where there was a bar, and upon doing so, a drunk patron stumbled out and right into Charlie's massive body. 

Charlie was strong. Muscular and lean. He never worried about not being able to take care of himself. Draco on the other hand was much thinner and a few inches shorter.

When the drunkard muttered some angry homophobic slur, Draco didn't hesitate.

And Charlie certainly didn't expect it.

Draco clenched the lapels of the stranger's jacket and thrust him back against the brick wall. The veins of his hands bulged out so hard that Charlie wondered if they'd burst through his skin.

"Don't you ever fucking dare say that again," hissed Draco. "I should fucking kill you right now."

"Draco," breathed Charlie. Charlie realized it was the first time he had ever called him by his first name instead of Malfoy. Draco's eyes rolled towards Charlie, and he could see the fear in Charlie's eyes.

Draco let go of the man and stalked off, Charlie having to jog a little to catch up. When he did, Draco slowed a bit and let his pace fall in line with Charlie's. His hands were shoved in his pockets, but Charlie could see his fists balled tightly inside.

"What was that?" breathed Charlie.

"He called you a bad name," spewed Draco.

"I can handle myself..."

"I know-I." Draco just shook his head. "Forget it."

Draco lumbered forward with a bit more speed, and Charlie could tell that he wanted to be left alone. He turned on his heel and went back to his apartment alone.

Always alone.

\--------

For the next few days, Draco had hardly been at the apartment at all. Not even at night for sleeping. 

Charlie didn't question it though.

He knew better than to push Draco's boundaries. He had to open up on his own time.

One night, Charlie sat on the sofa watching some rerun of a sitcom, half falling asleep in the plush cushions. The door to the apartment swung open wildly, which cause Charlie to stir.

Draco slammed the door behind him and made straight for the bathroom.

Charlie thought he imagined it in his sleepy stupor, but Draco's face was bruised and cut.

Charlie popped off the couch and followed Draco instantly, but he wasn't fast enough. Draco slammed the bathroom door in his face and locked it.

"You know I have a wand, right? A measly little lock can't keep me out," he shouted through the wood.

"Sod off."

Charlie leaned his back against the door and slid down it.

He wasn't sure at the time what compelled him, but he didn't want to leave until he knew Draco was okay.

After a few moments, he heard Draco huff dramatically. "I _said_ -"

"Yeah, I know what you said. I'm not leaving."

"Why not?"

Charlie thought carefully about his next words. He said what he thought Draco was _going_ to say that night outside the bar but didn't. "I want to take care of you." He said it so softly that he thought there was no way Draco would hear.

As Charlie was kicking himself mentally for saying it at all, not wanting to make his roommate uncomfortable, the door flew open. Charlie lost his balance and fell onto his back on the cold white tiles.

Draco stood tall above him, his arm still outstretched onto the door. "Get up," he ordered with a half of a smile.

Charlie searched for muggle first aid stuff, and Draco rolled his eyes. "Thought you had a wand," he teased.

"I do, but medical magic was never my strong suit. Would like to not accidentally give you a horn or a third eye," chuckled Charlie.

"Then don't bother," whispered Draco. "I'll have Granger do it for me at work in the morning."

"Nonsense. I can at least make sure it's all cleaned."

Draco leaned back against the cream colored counter top. His hands clenched the edge of the surface. He was even shorter than Charlie now, having to tilt his head up to meet his eyes. 

Charlie carefully patted a damp rag along the small cuts on his face. He tried to examine each closely to make sure they were properly cleaned. Draco had a rather large cut on his lip that made Charlie's heart twist.

He didn't like seeing Draco like this.

Charlie grabbed Draco's chin and moved his head around to get a better angle. "What the bloody hell did you get into?" he whispered.

If his head hadn't been seized, Draco would have looked at the ground shamefully.

"Some bloke at the pub. Kept putting his hands on this girl when her friend left her for a moment."

"Ever the hero," smiled Charlie fondly.

"Didn't think you'd approve," mumbled Draco sourly.

"Why's that?" 

"The fear in your eyes when I shoved that man the other day..." Draco started to strum his fingers against the wooden bottom of the counter.

"It wasn't about you or what you did," replied Charlie faintly.

"What was it about?"

Charlie stopped moving. He was still holding Draco's chin. He ran his thumb as tenderly as he could over the cut on Draco's lip. Draco tensed a bit, but relaxed when his thumb skated over the rest of his lip. "You should get some rest. It's late," huffed Charlie, avoiding the question. 

Charlie turned on his heel and into the comfort of his room. 

Always alone.

\--------

Draco finally started staying at the apartment again, though he worked later than ever. He and Hermione were closing in on a notorious dark wizard potioneer. 

Darren Silas. They'd been on the case for almost three months now, and Silas was good at slipping through the cracks and avoiding capture. His black market potions sent dozens to the hospital. 

It drove Hermione mad to not see him locked up. Draco too, but something about the fire in her eyes made him want to be a better partner for her. Some sense of duty to try and be better to her than he ever was in their adolescence. So, they worked tirelessly until they finally grew closer to arresting Silas.

"You know, you really needn't stay here with me all these nights," said Hermione.

"I want to be here," replied Draco flatly. 

"I'm just saying that I can do most of this paperwork myself. Besides, Ron tells me Charlie's been crazy lonely since he moved back to England. He was really excited to have a roommate, and you're almost never home."

Draco rolled his eyes but never looked up from his desk. "Granger, must you meddle?"

"And don't think I can't tell you're not getting a lot of sleep. I think you're over working yourself. I'm just concerned is all," she said gingerly, not truly saying what she wanted to.

"I'd rather be here," he repeated.

"Oh, come on. I'm sure Charlie's not that bad," she teased.

"Drop it," he said dangerously.

Hermione watched the familiar glint of anger flash in his eyes and knew he was serious. "Fine." She closed the files she was mulling over and stuffed them back in the cabinet they belonged in. She put on her coat and started to collect her things to leave. 

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"You only stay late when I do," she explained.

"Yeah, well, you don't need to do all this alone. And I know your place is only a few blocks away, but I don't like the thought of you walking late at night," he growled. His fists tightened just thinking of that poor girl at the bar the other evening. "I really do wish you'd just apparate or floo home."

"I like the air," she said. "You needn't walk me home every night either. I'm perfectly capable-"

"Yeah, I know you're bloody capable, Granger. But there are people out there-" Draco started to grind his teeth as his jaw tightened.

He couldn't even bring himself to finish his sentence, so Hermione did it for him. "Like the guy from the bar?"

"Among others," he whispered, thinking of the night he took a walk with Charlie.

"Fine. I will apparate home tonight." Hermione started to make her way out of the office to the Ministry's atrium but stopped at the door of their shared office. "Charlie's a good man, just so you know," she said simply. She shut the door behind her, leaving Draco alone.

Always alone.

\--------

A few more days passed, and Draco finally started to heed Hermione's advice. He went home earlier in the evening, even if she stayed later.

He didn't want to invoke her wrath.

One punch to the nose was enough for a lifetime.

One night, the script was flipped. Draco was home by 6 PM, and Charlie was no where to be seen. Draco had heard that there was some chimera ordeal on the outskirts of the city. No doubt Charlie would be on the case.

As Draco set his keys on the kitchen table, he heard a soft hoot. He followed it all the way to his bedroom and out his balcony. Sat on the railing was a black banded owl with a small scroll attached to its foot.

He unfurled it and read the messy scrawl penned on the parchment. 

_"I'm sure you heard of the chimera incident, so I'll be quite late. I'm also grabbing beers with Ron and Harry at Al's. You're welcome to come. I'll probably be out all night, just so you don't worry. C.W."_

A bit gutted to spend the night in a large apartment alone, but also quite relieved.

Draco sighed heavily and felt the weight of the last few weeks start to slump off of him, but it wasn't enough. He needed a hot shower.

Draco stood under the bronze showerhead for quite some time, not even showering himself. Just rotating back and forth to feel some semblance of something on his flesh. He looked down at the skull and snake tattoo on his forearm, running two fingers across it so delicately like it might come alive and bite him. Then, he peered down at the Malfoy ring on his index finger and aggressively tore it off. He threw open the shower curtain and chucked the ring across the room at the other wall, no doubt leaving a small indention in it. 

Draco sunk to the floor of the tub and just sat with his knees curled to his chest, and he cried.

And he cried. 

And he cried.

He didn't know how much time passed, but all he knew was that he hadn't cried this much in a long time. Not since his explosive argument with his mother when he decided to leave the manor, and before that, when Dumbledore died.

Charlie had come home early, not having gone for beers, and heard the shower running, but Draco had not heard the door open or close. Nor did he hear Charlie's footsteps growing louder down the hall. Charlie noticed the door to the bathroom was cracked open, which he thought was curious. Perhaps it was just because Draco assumed Charlie would still be gone, but nevertheless, it caught his attention. Which then was shifted to the quaking sobs inside.

Charlie slowly moved towards the bathroom and knocked on the door, careful not to look through the crack.

Draco didn't answer.

He didn't stop crying.

He didn't even tell Charlie to fuck off.

Charlie knew he had to have heard the knock, so he pushed the door open. The floor beside the tub was completely soaked from the shower curtain having been open. Charlie pulled out his wand and silently cast a spell to dry it all up.

He took a sharp breath in when he realized Draco still hadn't budged.

He looked weak, disheveled, and broken. As if he had carried something for far too long until it was too late. It had crushed him.

Charlie knew that feeling all too well.

Charlie noticed the ring on the ground, picked it up, and placed it on the sink.

He strode over to the shower and turned it off. Then, he sat on the toilet and looked down at Draco. "What can I do?" he whispered. Draco reached out his right arm across his body towards Charlie, and Charlie took his hand. 

Charlie held his hand between both of his until Draco got it all out of his system. 

When Draco finally dried off and left the shower, he walked silently into his room and collapsed on his bed. He would call out tomorrow, he thought to himself.

Charlie slunk into his own room and fell onto his own bed. He laid there, staring at the ceiling alone.

Draco fell asleep fast, alone.

But they were not truly alone.

\--------

Draco usually left for work a bit earlier than Charlie. He liked to grab coffee on the way for he and Hermione. So, when Charlie roused out of his room and found a shirtless Draco making breakfast in the kitchen, he was a bit shocked.

"Morning," greeted Charlie cautiously.

"Morning," replied Draco gruffly, his voice still thick with sleep.

As Draco cooked, Charlie couldn't help but notice the way his ass fit in his dark grey joggers. Or the way it swayed a bit as he moved to the tune of whatever song he was humming. He also noticed Draco's biceps a little more clearly. Tensing and relaxing as he stirred and flipped. 

"Why aren't you at work?" asked Charlie calmly. He didn't want to upset Draco. He assumed maybe last night took a toll on him, but he also didn't want to write a narrative about Draco that might not be true.

"Didn't feel like going in," he answered tersely. 

Charlie marched over to the phone in the living room and rang his boss. "Mullins, hi, Charlie here. I was wondering if I could work from home today. Really all I have to do is that write up on the chimera incident, make some calls and what not. I'm not feeling too well today, so if it's alright with you, I know I can accomplish all of that at home."

Draco eyed Charlie and tried to hide his amusement. 

Charlie hung up and sat at the table with a small smile on his face. Draco had to remain turned away to hide his own, but Charlie could see Draco's shoulders relax.

"Dare I say that I'm starting to be a bad influence on you, Weasley?"

"I thought you only called Ron that," jested Charlie.

"Any of you red headed prats that annoy me earn it," he tossed back.

"Oh, am I annoying you?" laughed Charlie. "I'm sorry then for wanting to spend the day with you and make sure you're okay. Terrible of me, really. I should be _more_ inconsiderate."

"Wanker."

"That's my line."

Draco shook his head as his grin spread even further across his face. He liked this. Occasional, loving bickering with someone while they were both in a sort of relaxed yet mindless setting. 

Charlie stood up and moved behind Draco to get a peak at what he was making. He was so tempted to put his hands on Draco's waist and pull him closer to him. He also wanted to rest his chin on Draco's shoulders, but he resisted. He must have taken an actual shower this morning, because the waft of spruce aftershave and a hint of cucumber hit Charlie like a brick. Charlie inhaled deeply, wanting to live in that scent forever. 

Sure, they had a few small moments here or there, but Charlie always dismissed it. Friends behaved in those ways platonically. Draco had never dated men, never looked at men, or gave anyone the impression he was into men.

So, Charlie stepped to the side instead and leaned back against the counter. 

Draco barely lifted his face to look at Charlie. "Yes?"

"Just watching."

"Must you be so creepy about it?"

Charlie clutched his chest and feigned theatrics. "He's killed me, oh he's killed me!"

Draco slammed down his spatula and gave Charlie a glaring look, and Charlie couldn't stop laughing. "You did not just say that," spat Draco playfully.

"Ron told me all about it. Thought it was funny. C'mon mate, really? You couldn't respect a fucking hippogriff?"

"I was arrogant and 13. Don't tell me you were perfect at 13."

"I was not," laughed Charlie in remembrance. "Snape caught me snogging Allison Goodwyn in the library. I wrote scrolls for ages. Mum was not happy."

Draco smiled wanly at the memory, but had trouble meaning it when he heard Snape's name.

Charlie could sense something was off, but he didn't poke it. Charlie grabbed Draco's wrist tenderly to capture his attention. "Want to come with me to the burrow this afternoon? Mum will make us lunch. I know she gets quite lonely these days. Dad always at work, all the kids now out of the house. There's this incredible meadow not far from the house too. Great place to walk around."

Draco gazed down at Charlie's large hand enfolding so much of his slender arm. He was holding his left arm. Charlie didn't flinch. Didn't try to steal a glance at the wretched tattoo.

It made Draco feel warm.

"That sounds lovely," he said.

Two two of them apparated to the burrow when Charlie finished his work. It was a lovely spring afternoon. There was surprisingly hardly a cloud in the sky. The blue of it seemed to stretch on forever.

Draco admired it. The openness of it all. It was far better than the stuffy, oversized halls and rooms of the manor he was used to.

Molly greeted them both warmly, though there was a hint of anxiety twinging in her eyes. She had killed Draco's aunt, and while that was nothing to regret, she'd wondered if he would hate her for it.

He didn't tell her then at this visit, but eventually he would tell her that he was thankful for it. Her bloodlust and crazed supremacy needed to be put to an end. And he hated what she did to Hermione right on the floor of his own home. Hated that he was powerless to stop her. Loved that Molly was strong enough to do so.

They drank tea and talked about quidditch. Molly couldn't help but gush over Ginny's recent promotion to captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Charlie and Draco reminisced on their own school days of playing quidditch.

Molly insisted on making a hearty meal of beef stew, so Charlie took Draco out back through the woods and to the promised meadow while she cooked.

The expanse of golden, worn out grass seemed to stretch on forever, just like the sky.

Draco couldn't help but stop and take it all in.

Overwhelmed, he sat on the ground, arms propped up on his slightly bent knees.

Without question, Charlie sat with him. 

"So, this was your life growing up? Open fields, a mother who dotes on you in all the right ways, a house filled with constant noise and affection?" asked Draco.

"Mostly, yeah."

Draco chewed on his lip.

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

Draco turned to look at Charlie. His hazel eyes glistened even more in the sun. They carried this certain earnestness that Draco wanted to dive into forever. He watched the tints of red in his hair ebb and flow as his curls rustled with the wind.

"I'm just envious of it all," admitted Draco.

"Draco Malfoy? Growing up in a large, fabulous mansion is envious of our cluttered, falling apart burrow?"

"Don't fucking laugh," threatened Draco.

Charlie put his hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezed it. "Thought you wanted me to be more inconsiderate?" he teased. 

Draco shouldered his hand off him and gave Charlie a gentle nudge. "Wanker."

"Seriously, stop stealing my line!"

Draco closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "The manor wasn't ever the best place to grow up. In fact, leaving it made me realize I've never had a place to call home," he confessed, growing serious again.

"Surely you have some good memories there," pushed Charlie.

"I had no siblings, so I played alone outside. That was until my father would come stomping across the grounds saying it wasn't befitting for a boy of my status to romp around in the dirt. I watched my father verbally and emotionally abuse my mother until she was a quiet, mousy, shell of a woman. I listened to my father yell and yell and yell everyday about how muggles were filthy scum. So much so until I believed it was the only true thing in the world. I listened to my aunt torture Hermione just one room away as I was powerless to stop her. As my father reminded me that our lives would be at stake if I tried. It's where I got my Death Eater mark and watched Voldemort kill my Muggle Studies professor. It's where we held prisoners in the basement and my father snacked me across the face with his ring when he caught me trying to bring them extra food and water."

Draco looked down and realized he wasn't wearing his own Malfoy ring. He fiddled with his naked finger, the feeling of it without the weight was foreign. Charlie fished in his pocket for the ring. 

"I had wondered where you got that gnarly cheek scar. Always assumed it was from a case. Here," said Charlie while holding out the ring. "I wasn't sure if you wanted it back after last night, but I held onto it in case you did."

Draco took the ring and slipped it back on his finger.

"Do you want to know why I still wear this?" he asked.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," assured Charlie. "You've said more than I expected already."

"I want to."

"Then, I'm listening."

Draco breathed in and tried to steel himself to more vulnerability. "To remember it all by. I mean, it's silly, really. I have enough physical and emotional scars from all of the years. Nightmares to last me dozens of lifetimes. What's a silly ring going to do but add more to that? I guess...I just never want to be him."

"Your father?"

Draco nodded.

"I don't think you ever will be," whispered Charlie.

Draco remained silent for some time.

"Is that why you left? All those memories?"

"Yeah. Couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't take my mother giving me guilty bloody eyes all the time. Moping and crying about how she wished she had done more. I know he fucked her up too, and I have never blamed her for not stepping in. I adore her and never wanted to see her hurt, especially at my expense. But I couldn't take it anymore. I begged her to move on. To just leave those tattered and worn pieces of us behind. To make a new life for ourselves without his fucking ghost haunting us."

"I can't imagine...I'm sorry, Draco." Charlie, in a daring surge of forlorn, reached out and cupped Draco's face. Fleeting moments of desperate longing that had piled and piled through the months started to crackle through the air, unsung, possibly forever. Their muted tune drowning in the forgotten promises of their touches from yesterdays before them.

Draco snapped his face away from Charlie's touch.

Maybe it wasn't the right time for Charlie, or maybe he misread Draco all together.

Draco stood and dusted off his clothes before skulking off, leaving Charlie alone again.

Always alone.

\--------

Hours had passed, and Charlie had long since eaten with his mother. Draco hadn't returned. 

He worried for him, as did Molly, but they both knew he was an adult.

Before Charlie left back to the apartment, she pulled him down to him and kissed his forehead. "I quite like him for you," she whispered.

"Mum! There's nothing-No, listen. We're not-"

"Hush, boy. I know my son. I see the way you look at him. The same way you used to fawn over that Allison girl. A mother knows Charles, a mother knows."

Charlie groaned. "Must you with the Charles?"

"Yes. I need you to know I'm serious."

"Thanks, mum. For everything." He hugged her tightly before disapparating. 

The lights of the apartment were off when Charlie came in. He didn't bother turning any on. He just turned on the tv and let the harsh glow of the light flood the living room. Charlie sat slumped on the sofa for an hour or so before the door slowly crept open.

Draco closed it behind him and leaned against it. His suit jacket was clenched in his hand, the sleeves of his button up rolled to his elbows. His buttons were done up only partly, and once again, he looked so disheveled. He dropped his jacket in a defeated manner.

Charlie sat up straighter and wanted to start spouting some apology, but be didn't get a chance to. Draco started to move towards him, and Charlie lost control of all his words. 

Draco slunk into Charlie's lap, straddling him, and wrapped his arms around his muscular body. Draco rested his head against Charlie's chest and just remained. 

Charlie stroked Draco's back.

There was an urgent aching to hold one another.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

Draco sobbed until Charlie's shirt was almost soaked. 

After some indeterminate amount of time, Draco pulled away and started to climb off, but Charlie held onto his waist and pulled him back down. 

Draco smiled a bit.

"Welcome home," whispered Charlie.

Draco led Charlie to his room, and they curled together under the sheets. They passed out immediately, but Charlie was woken soon to Draco slightly trashing around. 

A nightmare, guessed Charlie.

Charlie wrapped his arm around Draco's stomach and pulled him closer, Draco softening and relaxing into his embrace. They slept peacefully the rest of the night together.

Not alone.

Never alone again.


	11. Hot Headed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've been dating Ron Weasley for about six months, but it just hasn't been working. Neither of you acknowledge it, because you both care a lot about the other. But from the pained looks he shares with Hermione, and the ones you cast at Harry, soon, enough is enough. Will you make it out of the fire storm that is Ron's anger, or will you be swept up in a passionate goodbye?
> 
> CW: SM-U-TT-Y. Like more so than I've ever written. We're talking slapping, degradation, spitting, choking etc. Very rough, volatile, angry sex. TONS of swearing. Okay so maybe not that different than anything I've written hehe. Enjoy!

Like every Saturday night that you can remember for the past several years, you were sat in Ron and Harry's dorm room with Hermione, all studying. You and Hermione more so studying while Ron and Harry bickered about the Chudley Canons.

"You don't seriously like that rubbish team?" asked Hermione, looking up from her parchment.

Ron cast a long gaze at her, his eyes sparkling just a bit before he answered. He didn't even realize that you noticed. "They're not that bad!" he protested.

Harry's lips were quirking in a small smile, and his eyes searched for yours. When they met, you felt embraced somehow.

Ron must have noticed because he cleared his throat rather obnoxiously. "Really?" he asked harshly.

"What is it now, Ronald?" you teased.

But Ron was no longer being cute. Ron stood in place from his spot on the floor, leering over everyone intimidatingly. 

Harry and Hermione shared a look and muttered something about leaving you two be and not wanting to be caught in the blazing path of Ron's ensuing temper tantrum.

You loved him, you did. But he _was_ quite hot headed.

As Ron slammed the door shut behind Harry and Hermione, he turned around with fury plastered all over his face. You crossed your arms and held his gaze, unbothered by another one of his colorful outbursts. 

In all the time you had dated him, it never surprised you when they came. Even before that when you were just friends. Like when Ron didn't speak to Harry for months fourth year because of the whole tournament incident. Ron could never keep his temper under control.

It was kind of hot to see him riled up.

"What the fuck was all that?" he spat.

"I could ask you the same fucking thing, Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes and lumbered towards you quickly. He had grown quite considerably over the years. He shot up in height to the point where he towered over you by at least half a foot, maybe more. He worked out frequently for quidditch matches, his arms bulking out in pure strength.

Ron jabbed a finger at your chest in accusation. "Do you think I'm fucking blind?" His voice was raising in volume, so you rolled your eyes and pulled out your wand. 

" _Muffliato,_ " you cast at the door.

"What? Too ashamed to let the whole world hear how you're always drooling over The Chosen One?!"

Before you could even think, you reared your arm back and slapped Ron with all you could. His face hardly budged, let alone his muscular stature. A small tug of a smirk pulled on his face, and he licked his lips slowly.

He scanned your body from the ground up. Something daring was brewing in his mind, and it reflected in the way his normally shining blue eyes started to pool darker.

Ron barreled towards you, lifting you up over his broad shoulder as you shrieked. 

He slammed you onto the bed with no remorse, instantly pinning your wrists above your head. His grip was tight, merciless. You could feel your jaw set a bit, somewhat annoyed that he couldn't just use his words to speak.

But then again, you hadn't either when you decided to hit him.

Ron started to tear and peel the clothes off your body aggressively until you were fully naked under him. 

Even in his fiery state, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked at you. Like you were so ravishing. 

And you too weren't blind. You saw how he looked at Hermione. Even though it always felt that he chose to be with you because he didn't get his first pick, Ron never, ever made you feel like anything less than an absolute queen.

His eyes settled back on yours, and you couldn't help but roll them again. "Thought you were angry at me?" you asked.

Ron grabbed your face and squeezed your cheeks together. "The time for talking is fucking done." As Ron let go of his grip, he pulled his hand back for just a moment before letting it sling back across your cheek. 

The sensation burned and turned you on all at once. "Fucking prat," you seethed.

"Fucking whore," he shot back.

Ron took off his tie and bound your wrists together before tying the end off at the top of his bed. You tried to pull against it, but it was tight.

Ron stood to take off his own clothes, and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his body. It never got old. His stomach was as rigid as ever with the deep intrusions of his abs narrowing down into a sharp v-line. His thighs had gotten thicker over time too, especially from quidditch. His half-erect cock was still massive, even making his large hands look almost small as he sloppily stroked himself.

"Do you think Harry is half the man I am?" he asked darkly.

You shook your head furiously, thinking of the countless times Ron's pounded inside of you, stretching you in ways you never had been before.

As Ron brought himself to full hardness, he climbed back on top of you. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, and you knew you were already wet for him. Ron tutted with a small grin. "Already fucking wet for me, huh? What a little slut." He leaned down towards your face and held it in his hand once again. "Do you think Harry could fuck you like I could?"

You bit down on your lip. Ron was wrong for you. Just as you were wrong for him. So, of course you were thinking about Harry. Ron sensed your hesitation and thrust into you in one go. 

Your head lulled back into the pillow at the invasion. You were wet, but not quite prepared enough for his impressive length. Ron let go of your face and exchanged it for the sides of your throat. Squeezing as he railed into you. You wrapped your legs around his back and pulled him into you deeper. 

You could feel your half-hearted clutch on the tie above you start to loosen the more light headed you got.

The sound of Ron's skin plowing against yours made you clench around him. He always knew exactly how to fuck you, he was right about that.

Ron brought your face to look at his, demanding every ounce of attention you could muster up. "Still think that Harry could," he grunted deeply with a pause, "fuck you like I could?" Ron's throaty moans fueled you on, and you pressed your legs into his back harder to get him deeper inside of you.

"I reckon," you breathed, "he'd fuck me better."

Ron slapped your cheek again and continued his destructive and continuous thrusts in you, rolling you closer to orgasm. "Open your mouth you fucking whore," he ordered.

You did as he said, and the moment you did, he spit into your mouth. You swallowed it with a smile, your next retort blazing on the tip of your tongue. "Mmm, tastes like hypocrisy," you sneered.

Ron's jaw clenched as he pulled out of you abruptly. You whined a little, not wanting it to end. "Oh, sorry. Did you want to cum? Why don't you go ask Harry?"

You gritted your teeth, anger boiling inside of you. "You didn't finish either smartass. Maybe Hermione can put her mouth to better use and finish you off rather than always flirting with you."

Ron started to stutter over his words, finally caught off guard in his domineering presence. "She does not flirt with me!"

"Well, you certainly flirt with her! And she definitely doesn't stop it or say anything about it," you spat.

Ron sat at the edge of the bed and sighed deeply. A few hot tears started to roll down your face. Ron undid your restraint and peered down at you. You took his face in your hands, studying the sharp features of his jaw and the soft roundness of his cheeks, knowing it was the last time you would ever enjoy them. 

Ron's hands found their way to your hips, and effortlessly, he flipped you over onto your stomach. "Get on your fucking knees," he commanded hoarsely. 

You sat up onto your hands and knees and wiggled your butt suggestively. "I know you're going to miss this sweet ass, Ron," you whispered coyly. 

Ron grabbed your hips and drove them back into his. "It's all fucking mine tonight." Ron fisted his hand around your hair and pulled you up towards him. "You're going to take every fucking inch like a good girl. I'm going to fuck any thought of that bastard out of your mind."

Ron separated a bit and spanked you. "Who's cock do you want?" he asked.

"Yours," you squealed as he landed another sharp blow on your cheek.

"Good girl."

Ron slid inside of you again, and you arched your back at the intense fullness. He exchanged his grip on your hair for your hip, leveraging himself against you. He brought his other hand to your mouth, demanding for you to open up. You indulged on the feeling of two of his large fingers filling your mouth, slopping your tongue around them until they were coated fully.

Ron jerked his hand away from you, sliding it down your body until he reached your clit. He circled it tirelessly as he continued to plow into you, the slap of his thighs against yours building in volume.

You could feel the warmth of your orgasm growing in temperature.

Your moans chorused with his lazily until it was the only sound filling your ears. You drove your hips back into him, meeting his measured pumps with frenzy.

"Shit, baby," he moaned. "I'm gonna-I'm,"

"Me-me too," you rasped.

"Cum all over my cock you little slut. Make it all yours," he grunted.

Ron fucked you harder and harder until his cock stiffened inside you with release. He huffed with a throaty gasp as he finished, and you breathed hard under him as you tried to steady yourself. He let go of you, and you collapsed onto the bed, legs quivering harder than they ever had.

Ron pulled you in close to him and kissed your shoulder blades.

You both just laid there in silence, waiting for your breathing to return to normal. Your mind swarmed at what was to come next, and you couldn't take it anymore.

You sat out of bed and started to look for your clothes, piecing them back on bit by bit. It was difficult to maintain your balance, but you had to push through.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Ron, it's clear we're not right for each other," you whispered.

Ron didn't reply, and you had more than enough proof that you were right. Once dressed, you moved back to him and planted a small kiss on his forehead. "I love you, but go get her." You sauntered towards the dormitory door and cast one last look over your shoulder at him. "Cherish her."


	12. Forever Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As George watched his oldest brother Bill say his vows to his beautiful bride Fleur, he had but one thought. "Fuck these fucking weddings." Instead of drowning himself in another half dozen gin and tonics, he strode right up to Luna in all her airy beauty and asked her one question he didn't know would change his life. "Be my plus one for the rest of these bloody weddings this year?"
> 
> *Loosely based on the concept of the film Plus One. And can we all just agree that Jack Quaid is perfect? Also, written from George's perspective. I also had to create some characters and create middle names for people since there are no canon middle names for everyone.*

\----------

_July 6th, 1999. Wedding of William Arthur Weasley and Fleur Isabelle Delacour._

I watched my darling oldest brother Bill skate around the dance floor in a passion of love and endearment with his new, blushing bride. 

He looked bloody happy, and I was happy for him.

But when I locked eyes with everyone I loved around the room, I quickly departed from the crowd, eager to find another drink to knock down.

Fred and Angelina.

Harry and Ginny.

Dean and Seamus.

Percy and Penelope.

Charlie and Evan.

They were all so fucking happy, and I was all alone.

Five upcoming weddings. Five more until the madness would end. As I leaned against the bar and watched all those happy couples wrapped in each others' arms, excitedly whispering about their own coming weddings, I couldn't help but sigh frustratingly. 

Couples started to invade the dance floor after Bill and Fleur had their first dance.

Aside from myself, the only other person at the bar was a dodgy old man. I wasn't even sure who he was. Probably someone on Fleur's side of the family.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but I couldn't handle any idle chit chat, so I stepped away before he spoke. 

I found a cozy corner of the done up tent and gulped down half of my next gin and tonic. Number four, I think it was. It didn't really matter anymore how much I had. 

Nothing was taking the edge off anyway.

I watched the wedding goers twirl in their colorful dresses and their dates dote on them with adoring eyes. 

It made me feel even more lonely.

Then, I spotted her.

Luna Lovegood.

She was in the middle of the dance floor by herself, spinning around in an airy fashion to the tune of her own music. Her long, blonde, semi-curly locks fell neatly along her back. The sides pinned out of her face. She had a subtle but bright smile plastered on her face. Eventually, Ginny wandered into the crowd to dance with her. They locked hands and spun around, just laughing and looking so...free.

Not a thought or care in the world about anyone else around them.

I was envious.

I wished I could get out of my own head and feel the same way they did.

My eyes trailed along her body momentarily. I noted the way her black, floral patterned dress clung closely to the supple curves of her breasts but flowed out at the bottom in a delicate flurry.

I never really knew her. She was younger than Fred and I. There were always unkind rumors about her. I never entertained them, but I never really got to know her. I always reckoned Fred and I's energy was too much for her quiet and gentle demeanor.

The loud chatter of wedding guests started to drown out as I felt my gaze start to unfocus, starting to look out at nothing at all. The condensation of my drink started to chill my fingers, and I unconsciously kept bringing my drink up to sip.

Maybe it was the inevitable dread of facing the next five weddings alone, or maybe it was something in the atmosphere around her, but I marched right up to her as soon as Ginny left her side.

"Hi," I blurted a bit too loudly.

Luna turned to me with a small but kind smile. She didn't stop dancing, but she rolled her movements down to a slight weave and bob. "Hello, George. Nice party, isn't it?"

"It's great," I started. The song ended and promptly turned into a slow dance, and Luna stopped dancing all together. "Care to dance with me?" I asked.

Luna's eyes widened considerably at my proposal, but she quickly recovered with a loving look. "I'd love to."

Luna wrapped her hands around my neck, the sensation shooting a few tingles down my back. I thought nothing of it at the time, just rendered it down to the fact that I hadn't been this close to another woman in so long. I gently placed my hands at her waist, careful not to wander too far down and make her uncomfortable.

I was embarrassed that I wasn't too good of a dancer. Fred got all the moves, not me, so we just swayed slightly in place. Luna didn't seem to mind. 

Her blue eyes scanned the area around us, still smiling warmly. "I quite like this," she whispered so only I could hear. As if we were the only people around but somehow also holding onto some secret. "Seeing everyone happy. I quite like weddings."

"They're alright," was all I could offer.

"Sour about love?" she teased.

"I guess so," I whispered back faintly.

"But love is so wonderful," she sighed. 

"Yeah, when you're in it. When you're not, it's like a gnawing fucking obtrusion," I seethed.

Luna giggled a bit at my admission, and I felt bad I was being so grumpy in her presence. The more I had drank, the more sullen I had become. Yet, she did not judge me for it. "George," she said lightly. "It doesn't have to be that way. I look around at the people I love and am so happy they get to relish in that."

I could feel my features soften as I listened to her speak. She didn't say much, but the daintiness of her words fell on me like a gentle snowfall.

"Are you going to all the other weddings this year?" she asked casually.

"Kinda have to don't I? Four of them are all in my own family," I chuckled dourly. 

"Yet I sense you're still not very happy for them," she said coolly.

"I am, but I'm also just...frustrated?" I said with ties of confusion. I wasn't sure how I felt.

"You're lonely," she guessed.

I almost wanted to snap at her. I didn't quite feel like unfurling all my emotions on her, but I also didn't want her to face the undeserved storm that was clouding over me. She could see the turmoil washing over me, I thought, as her own brows furrowed in a bit of regret.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"No, it's okay. You're right."

We danced together for a while in silence, and I was grateful for that understanding between us.

"Luna," I breathed in her ear. 

"Yes?"

"Be my plus one for the rest of these bloody weddings this year?"

Luna's smile somehow brightened even more, and I felt like putty around her. "Really? Me?"

"Of course, why not?"

Luna's face fell a little, and in doing so, so did my heart. "People don't ask me out to anything," she whispered. "Even as a friend."

"Fuck them," I gritted. "They're all rubbish anyway."

Her face pieced back together in cheeriness, and I felt a slight flutter in my chest. 

"I'd love to, George Weasley."

\----------

_August 10th, 1999. Wedding of Percy Ignatius Weasley and Penelope Audrey Clearwater._

Percy and Penelope long since exchanged their vows, had their first dance, cut into their cake and all the other ceremonious bullshit that comes with a wedding. I stood with Luna by the bar for a drink.

She ordered a glass of champagne. The first time I think I'd ever seen her drink.

I settled for a usual gin and tonic.

As she sipped her champagne, there was a certain glint in her eyes. It looked familiar. Like the one I always see in Fred's while we plot something, or in Ginny and Ron's if they decide to go with it.

I never expected to see it in the eyes of Luna Lovegood.

There was also this smirk playing on her face. 

I was intrigued.

"You look...specifically happy," I noted.

"What does 'specifically happy' mean?" she giggled.

"It's not your normal type of cheerfulness. What's got you all joyful?"

Luna tried to suppress her smile by bringing her flute back to her lips, but she moved in closer to speak. I was much, much taller than her, so I had to lean my head down considerably as she whispered. "3...2...1..." she counted down.

I followed the trail her eyes blazed right towards Percy and Penelope. 

Percy was at this snack bar he about murdered someone to have set up. He and Penelope always loved snacking during their late night study sessions.

Percy was piling something that looked akin to chocolate covered almonds onto his plate.

"Do you like raisins, George?" she asked with an airy giggle.

"Bloody hell, no. No one does." Suddenly, I could feel my eyes bulge out of their socket. "No way. Luna, what did you do?"

Luna just laughed, gulped down the rest of her champagne and offered her hand to me. "Dance?"

"What did you do?" I repeated playfully. I never expected this side of her.

"I knew how much you like Percy the least, and how much you like pranks the most. So, I just did a simple transfiguration spell. Turned his precious almonds into raisins."

I shot my brow up at her as my mouth hung slack. "Luna, Luna, Luna," I chuckled. I watched her for a moment, admiring her. Not just the way her short, dandelion yellow dress really brought out light in her dark blue eyes, or how cute her strawberry, dangling earrings looked against her pale face. Admiring her for doing something she probably never would have. Doing something _for me_. To make me smile at these miserable events.

I heard Percy start to shout in annoyance in the background, and Luna pressed her lips together to contain her pride. "Dance with me?" she asked again.

I took her hand and swept her around the dance floor clumsily. She more than made up for it in all her grace.

"Never pegged you to be the type to pull a prank on someone," I confessed.

"It was harmless. No one would get hurt, so I couldn't resist," she smiled. "Besides, it was worth it to see you finally smile."

\----------

_August 29th, 1999. Wedding of Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Weasley._

Luna was Ginny's maid of honor. She was with Ginny all afternoon helping her get ready, and she was by Ginny's side the whole ceremony. 

It felt empty to not have her next to me.

I couldn't understand it.

Was it just the idle affections that cling in the air when it comes to weddings? Or was it the fact that I continuously drowned myself in cheap liquor that made me see something more in Luna?

Or was it just Luna herself?

Never in a thousand years would I have expected her to be my type.

As she gave her speech during the reception, I couldn't tear my eyes off of her. Off the way her handpicked dress of mauve flowed off the curves of her body. How in the gentle summer night winds, it flowed elegantly like how she always moved.

"Harry Potter was probably my first real friend at Hogwarts, and Ginny was a close second," she smiled at the blissful couple. Ginny laid her head against Harry's shoulder, no doubt already buzzed with white wine. "Though, I am much closer with Ginny than I am Harry, and I have to say one thing to you Harry. Don't ever make her feel unloved. Ginny is my whole world, and I am giving her to you willingly. Ginny, you know I've always been a little tainted when it comes to love, even if I try to remain positive. Seeing the harrows you two have faced together fuels me with this earnest hope, eagerness, and life that one day, I'll know what you two have. An unyielding, undying, unrelenting adoration for each other."

"Mate," whispered Fred. "Got a bit of drool on your chin," he teased.

"Piss off," I grunted back. Luna had scarcely looked my way as she delivered her speech, mainly focusing on Harry and Ginny. As she uttered the last of her lines, her eyes flickered towards me for half a moment, I was sure of it.

Once speeches were done and dancing commenced, Luna and I fell into our regular routine. Glass of champagne for her, gin and tonic for me. For once though, Luna didn't ask me to dance. We just sat at our table and watched everyone else.

"Everything okay?" I asked once I noticed her resting her chin in her hand. 

"Fine," she smiled sweetly.

"Are you sure? Do you want to dance?" I asked frantically.

Luna reached over with her free hand and squeezed my own for just a moment. "I'd like to just sit and watch, if you don't mind. Take it all in."

I eyed her cautiously, wondering if she really was okay. Her smile seemed genuine enough, but I couldn't shake the creeping, festering feeling that sunk its claws into me: I just wanted to see her truly happy all the time.

\----------

_September 3rd, 1999. Wedding of Charlie Septimus Weasley and Evan Leonard Warrington._

I watched Luna stroll up through the footpath lined with tall oak trees until she reached the ceremony area among a small forest clearing. This time, she was sitting alone while I stood by Charlie's side with all my other brothers.

I gave her a soft smile in greeting, and she returned it tenfold. 

I couldn't peel my eyes off her as she awkwardly shuffled by guests to her own, white, wooden folding chair to sit down. Her dress this time was a dark mulberry dress. It was short, like all her other ones, and the color contrasted greatly against her porcelain skin. As I studied the chiffon and lace details of her skirt, I kept picturing us once again gliding along the dance floor. Spinning and twirling together not at all to the beat of the song. Her eyes shining with each passing second until the moment seared and seared into the depths of my memory, something to lull me to sleep at night when the nightmares felt endless.

The ceremony passed by in a blur. 

All I could think of was seeing and talking to Luna. She was the only reason these things were at all bearable.

By the time the dancing started, I pushed my way through the crowd to find her, but she wasn't around. I asked everyone I could think of if they had seen her, and Ginny finally offered that she thought she saw her wander off.

My mind raced, just hoping she was okay.

There was only one way into this clearing, so I set through the footpath towards the forest entrance. Night had settled in nicely. If it wasn't for the twinkle of all the small lanterns at the reception, the footpath's trees that overhung would have looked sinister and malicious. Once out of the path, the world grew darker, only the faint silver glow from the moon encased the earth. 

There was another large clearing at the end. It was littered with cars, brooms, portkeys, all the sorts that had brought guests here.

Off to the right was a singular tree log, large enough to fit the whole Weasley family.

Luna was sat on it, staring up at the inky sky that was dotted with glitter. I slowly approached her, the crunch of the first few autumn leaves seemed to boom beneath my feet.

She turned to me just as slowly and smiled. "Hello, George."

I sat next to her, a little closer than I had intended, but she didn't move from my touch. "Why aren't you at the party?" I asked.

"I didn't quite feel like being formal with everyone," she answered coolly.

"Something wrong?"

"I think I'm starting to understand how you felt now. Back at Bill and Fleur's wedding," she whispered.

I pinched my brows together in thought as I tried to parse out what she meant. All it took was one small glance my way for her to piece together what I was thinking without ever saying it.

"I do believe love is out there for me," she started. "But it does get quite lonely, doesn't it?"

She returned her face back towards the sky, and I took note of her sharp jawline and how it cast a delicate shadow across her long neck. I wanted to bury my face into it, inhale the faint scent of cherry that always followed her.

"Maybe it won't be that way for long," I said faintly. I had wondered if she had even heard it, but as she gradually smiled just a bit bigger, I was sure she had.

"What makes you so sure of that, George Weasley?"

"Any bloke would be barking mad not to fall in love with you," I assured.

Luna didn't reply for some time, but when she did, I swear my heart stopped. "Any lady would be barking mad not to fall in love with you too."

I was awash with hope, longing, and ease for the first time in a long time.

\----------

_September 19th, 1999. Wedding of Fred Gideon Weasley and Angelina Lucille Johnson._

Once again, I had to leave Luna alone during the ceremony and for a bit of the reception too. Of course, I was Fred's best man and therefore needed to stand beside him and give the stellar speech I'd prepared for years.

"Freddie, I must reprimand you dear brother for taking so long to settle down with this one. And Angelina, darling, I must apologize for the daft emptiness that is sometimes my brother's mind. He told me when he first met you that he would marry you one day. I dismissed it as idle teen lust and thought for sure he'd say the same about the next girl and the next and the next. But he surprised me. He always somehow found his way back to you above all else. After the first time, I knew he was serious about his sentiment, even if his actions did not align with that. I cannot think of a better woman to keep my brother in place when he strays, and I cannot think of a better man to annoy the piss out of you day in and day out. I know though that what you have is real. It was never love at first sight, like he would so fondly like to pretend it was. It was slow, creeping, aching. He never knew just how all encompassing it would be until it had consumed him wholly. And that, well that is the best form of love, is it not?"

I never dared even look at Luna, though I wanted to the entire time.

Later on, Luna had her champagne, I my gin and tonic. I danced more than I had at any of the other weddings, though mostly with Fred and mum.

As wedding guests began to depart and those remaining contributed to the dull buzz of conversation, Fred pulled me aside. "When are you finally going to lock her down, mate?"

"Whatever do you mean, brother?" I asked with a gentle nudge.

"Luna, you fucking wanker." Fred rolled his eyes and grew more contemplative. It was rare to see him like this. Not on the precipice of some joke or lighthearted comment. 

I shrugged as I watched her dance with Ginny, very similar to the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding. Her pale blue dress adorned no patterns or frills this time, though the sleeves were long and lacy to compensate for the soft chill of the deepening fall weather.

It made sense, if I really thought about it.

Maybe she wasn't into the midnight adventures and high stakes pranks like I had hoped I'd find in a woman, but she was special. She tried to indulge herself in my interests, even if they didn't fancy her. She made me feel warm and important. 

Appreciated. 

Seen.

Everyone could tell you that when they thought of Fred and I, they'd tell you that we were popular extroverts. And this wouldn't be false, but what they never expected, nor did I, was that through time, I found myself fading further and further into the shadows. The shadows of Bill and Charlie, and definitely of Fred. Even the shadows of Ginny as she married before me. I found myself bending my will and character to the narrative that others saw of me.

Always the loud adventurer, never the quiet, indolent man who just wanted to come home to love.

And with Luna, I felt like I really deserved that. Felt like I was capable of having that. 

Fred placed his hand on my shoulder, shaking me out of whatever trance I had fallen into. "Mate, you know I had this on and off thing with Angelina for over five years. I was a bloody idiot with her. I don't know how she still decided to wake up and love me, but she did. Don't make my mistake. Go get her and keep her." He squeezed my shoulder in one last surge of assurance before walking away.

One more wedding.

One more date.

One more chance.

\----------

_October 10th, 1999. Wedding of Dean Aldon Thomas and Seamus Ronan Finnigan._

Dean and Seamus opted for a small ceremony, only about 10 of us. Neither of their families approved, unfortunately, so the reception was small as well.

We all apparated to a seaside cliff off the coast of Ireland, sunset in the background, as the two exchanged vows and became "wed". Unfortunately, the country wasn't approving at the time either.

But we all knew that it didn't matter if it was official or not. 

Love was love, always.

To relish in that in any way you could, well fuck, it was beautiful.

The reception took place in a small Irish pub in Killarney. Everyone pitched in to rent the place out for the night for it to just be us.

Everyone danced their hearts out, Luna especially. This time, her dress was a deep scarlet. The plunge of the chest fell deep, her breasts swayed perfectly with each beat.

One glass of champagne turned into four, just as one gin and tonic turned into four. We all split shots, and Seamus insisted on us trying the local ales. Soon, the world grew fainter and more dizzying.

By the end of it all, Seamus directed everyone to a local hotel.

We all stumbled in and booked our rooms, thankful for the coming promise of rest. Luna and I were at the back of the line, her arm was looped through mine for support. She was giggling about how the last time she had felt this intoxicated was when her father's home was invaded by wrackspurts. I had no idea what she was going on about, mostly because she couldn't stop giggling between every other word, but I felt more drunk just listening to her.

I could listen to her for hours.

"Hi, room for two?" asked the woman at reception when we finally slunk up to the desk. 

"Uh," I groaned a bit, unsure. "Two rooms, please."

"I'm sorry, sir. We actually only have one available."

"That's okay," cooed Luna gently. "I know you'll be a perfect gentleman."

Automatically, I leaned down and kissed the top of her head before returning my attention to settling the matter of our room.

Thankfully our room was on the same floor and not far down the hall. Luna hadn't let go of me the entire time. When I pushed the door open into our room, I was somehow relieved and disappointed. The bed was large enough to put some space between us and not make things weird, but I couldn't help but wish we were confined to a smaller mattress so I could hold her without as much anxiety about making a move.

But maybe I shouldn't have been thinking about that.

We were both plastered.

I didn't, at all, want to take advantage of Luna. I just wanted to hold her.

Near the bed was a large, black leather arm chair. Nothing was particularly impressive about the room. There was some cheap, olive green wallpaper covering every square inch. The bedspread was a simple white duvet cover with white sheets and burgundy pillows.

Luna detached herself from my side to step into the bathroom, and I slumped over to the extremely cozy looking arm chair. 

I sunk into it's cushion and started to loosen my tie, feeling the world grow heavier as sleep approached.

"I hope you're not planning on sleeping on that dodgy old thing," laughed Luna as she came out of the bathroom.

"It's fine, you have the bed."

"Nonsense, George! It's okay."

I struggled to keep my eyes open, but looking at her fueled me with a new sense of energy. I smiled faintly at her and tried to reassure one more time that I wanted her to be comfortable.

Luna stumbled over to me, threw her hands around my neck, and sat straddled on my right thigh. 

I inhaled sharply at the familiar scent of cherries and the cool sensation of her fingers on my skin.

I almost felt instantly sobered, there in her presence. 

She pressed her hips down onto my leg and let out a small, paltry whine. She kissed the thin skin behind my ear, the one I still had, and I could feel my head colliding back into the chair. I snaked my hands around her back, dying to kiss her, to taste her.

"Lune," I whispered.

"That's a new one," she giggled.

"Thought I'd try it out."

She brought her focus back up to me, and I felt a crushing weight on my chest. It rendered me almost unable to speak as she peered into my eyes, making me lose all sense of control and of right and wrong.

"Yes?" she asked.

"We should sleep. You, me, we're really, really drunk."

"Oh, okay..." Her normal dulcet tone had twisted into something of chagrin, and I immediately wanted to hold her closer. Ensure I never did anything to make her sad again.

"I'm erm, not really good when I'm drunk," I chuckled embarrassedly. "And I really don't want to take advantage of you."

"Oh, honey," she sighed. "I'm not as drunk as you think I am. And there's no need to be ashamed. I can think of...other ways to have fun." Her lips quirked up in the most devious way I had ever seen them. It was foreign and delightful all at once. 

Luna dragged her hips forward and rolled them back seductively, all while holding my gaze. I could feel her cunt listlessly press against my thigh, and she sucked in sharp breath. Whatever innocent, virtuous expression she had on before faded away into something provocative and challenging. Her movements were perfunctory, like she had both waited a lifetime to do this and held no reservations in doing so.

I was drunk on gin, drunk on her. Drunk on love, perhaps as well.

I tried to will my heart to stop pounding so hard. Surely, she could hear it or sense it.

I was spellbound somehow into not moving. My own irrational fear that if I did anything at all, it would be the wrong thing. That she would draw back from me, never to be seen again.

I tried to layer my despair with a mask, but in my drunken state, it was hard to conceal.

Luna drew to stop and asked if I was okay, but I hadn't heard it the first time. 

"I'm just...thinking about kissing you," I replied. "Thinking about how it feels to see you get yourself off on me."

"Want to play a game?" she asked coyly.

I raised my brow in intrigue, beckoning her silently to elaborate. 

"I keep getting myself off on you, I let you hear _every single sound_ , right in your ear, and let's see how long you last before you can't keep your hands off me. And then, only then, will I let you kiss me."

"Then why wouldn't I just touch you so I could kiss you?" I asked with a slightly crooked grin.

"Because, George," she said lowly. She grinded herself into me once more, leaning into my ear to release a raspy whine. "Anticipation."

I could feel my hands hovering over her waist and her ass. I wanted to touch her so badly, kiss her like there was nothing else I knew how to do in the world. But she made a point. The longer we waited, the more fun it would be.

She hung her hands on my shoulders for leverage, each of her soft moans sending a burning ache through me.

She bit down on her lip as she looked me in the eyes, forcing me to hold her gaze. 

"What are you thinking about?" I asked huskily. 

"How good you'd feel inside of me," she breathed shakily.

"Lune," I growled. 

"Yes?" she teased. She knew exactly how close I was to breaking.

"I'm going to lose."

"You of all people should know there's a risk with every venture. Besides, I think losing in this case is still a win," she winked.

I ensnared the back of her head in my hand and pulled her face to mine. I had waited months for this. To feel the delicateness that is her lips. To feel how smooth and soft they were against mine. To fully breathe in her alluring scent into the caverns of my lungs. To travel my hands along her body like it was a roadmap, and I was desperately trying to find home.

She had much more self control than me. There was certainly something raring in her kiss, but she found a beautiful ebb and flow between that and savoring the moment.

The more and more we moaned into each others' mouths, the more I couldn't hold back any longer.

My hand made her way under the hem of her dress, and I pulled aside her knickers. Her eyes flashed up at me appraisingly, and I could feel tingles all over my spine.

She was drenched, making it easy for me to plunge two fingers in her. Even her gasps were angelic. Light and airy, but not forced like she was trying to sound cute or as if she were holding back. Every sound she made, ever, reverberated into the confines of my ribcage, endlessly echoing through the cracks.

I had just started to shift my fingers inside of her when she beat me to it.

Luna started to ride on my fingers, guiding them where she wanted them to go. Her pelvis started to rock forward again, her clit rubbing against the heel of my palm. 

My chest started to heave the more aroused I got at seeing her use me for total selfishness. I had wondered if she ever let herself be selfish in her entire life, and by Merlin, I was glad to be of service in that area.

She deserved it.

She deserved all the stars, the sun, the moon, and any and every intangible thing I would never be able to give her.

So, I gave her this. However she wanted me, wanted to use me, wanted to love me, I gave it to her in that moment.

She continued to drive herself on my hand, hastening her orgasm with each sultry moan and gasp until she was cumming all over me.

She expelled a weak breath as she smiled at me, her legs were shaking on either side of mine. I pulled out of her and cleaned us up with a quick spell, and she nuzzled her head in the crook of my neck as she tried to come down.

She felt so perfect, resting there.

I stroked her hair and just listened to the sound of us breathing together.

"Luna," I whispered.

"Don't go and ruin the perfect moment with some joke," she laughed lightly.

"I'm deadly serious, I'm afraid." I could feel my stomach twisting into a tightened lump of steel. I had wondered if maybe I had misinterpreted everything between us. Did she not want me to speak because she didn't want things to go any further than that? Did she only see me as a friend?

But Fred was right. I couldn't just sit back and let the idea of her and I sink into a black tar abyss, lost forever. I had to know one way or another.

"Luna," I started again when she hadn't responded. "Be my date forever. For everything. Weddings, bar hopping, Sunday breakfast, rainy afternoons by the fire, Wednesday evening nargle hunting. Anything. Everything. Whatever you want to do. I want to do it with you."

"Are you proposing marriage?" she laughed loudly. She slapped her hand over her mouth, not wanting to be rude in ridicule. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at your words. They're very sweet. You just sound so serious. So...permanent."

My cheeks flushed greatly, but she palmed my face and stroked my jawline. "Let's start with tomorrow. See where it takes us. And then the next day we do the same. Over and over until we're sick of each other," I offered.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get sick of you, George Weasley."

"I'm not sure I'll ever get sick of you either, Luna Lovegood."

\----------


	13. Freddie Gets a Phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the 21st century Freddikins. I don't need to explain this one. Fred gets a phone. ;) This one's going to be super short. Just a cute lil back and forth with you and Fred. Since this is "your phone", your messages are on the right, Fred's on the left. Trying something new with this! hope you all like the phone format. Just wanted to try and switch things up. :) The typos in the texts btw are meant to be there. I wanted it to feel like a natural text conversation. No one types perfectly in texts.

__

You tapped on your phone nervously, worried you had ruined it all. Bill sensed your shift in mood.

"Everything okay?"

"Bill, I fucked up."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he tired to reassure.

"I asked Fred to marry me over a fucking text..."

Bill's eyes widened and his face paled. "What did he say?"

"He left me on read..."

Bill crossed over to your desk and sat on the edge of it. "I think you guys will be okay."

"No, I totally fucked this up," you groaned, collapsing your head into your hands.

"Darling, just trust me for like five seconds for once?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you inquired.

Bill looked at his phone and replied to a text with a smile. He clasped his hand on your shoulder and gave you one last reassuring look. "Love you kiddo. Always." With that cryptic message, he left the office. In his place, Fred stood in the doorway. 

His hair was windswept and messy as if he ran here. He had a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand. Ever the man to go against normal romantic gestures, but it was always endearing. His smile was so wide it almost looked crazed. 

"Fred?" you asked while standing from your desk. You met him halfway in the middle of office. He wasted no time. He handed you the flowers and immediately propped down on one knee, pulling a ring out of his pocket shakily.

"Princess, I've had this ring for a year now. Mulling over and stressing over the perfect way to do this. But there is no perfect way, right? You proved that to me. Just feeling so in love with someone makes you want to blurt it out. And every single day over the past year, that's how I felt. Whether you were cooking us dinner in just my t-shirt, chewing on your pen in thought as you did paperwork, stopping on the street to pet every dog we crossed. I always thought, Merlin I fucking love her. I wanted to ask you over and over and over, but I never felt I would be good enough for you. You're always on the go, always seeking the next thrill. I always thought that'd be my perfect match, but it terrified me to see someone match my energy so equally. I love you, fuck I love you. I'm sorry I don't have a better prepared speech. But I love you. So yes. I'll marry you if you'll marry me."

Fred held your hand and placed the ring just at the tip of your finger, looking at you expectantly. You screamed yes, and he slid the ring on your finger with enthusiasm.

The two of you hugged so fiercely that you collided onto the floor in a puddle of kisses and affection. Eventually, Bill came back in, laughing and congratulating the two of you.

Forever and ever with Fred.

It had a nice ring to it.

And you had a nice ring to promise your forever.


End file.
